


Anaclitic

by TRASHCAKE



Series: Anaclitic: The Mental Ward AU [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Comedy, Drama, Everyone wants to bone Yixing, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderqueer Character, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Slice of Life, This isn't sad I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 68,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TRASHCAKE/pseuds/TRASHCAKE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one knows why the mental ward is called Theta. Chanyeol blames the aliens. The other patients don't care.</p>
<p>|| Slice of life/Mental Ward!AU: Because not all stories regarding mental illness should end in death. ||</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Case Files.

**Author's Note:**

> **an·a·clit·ic**  
>  _adj._
> 
>  
> 
> _Having a physical or emotional dependence on another person._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Note: While this is a light-hearted fic, there are some mentions of more serious issues and medical procedures, I'll try and explain each new term as well as I can, but if people are still confused I will write up a glossary.
> 
>  
> 
> **Trigger warnings are listed at the start of each chapter**
> 
>  
> 
> Based on and written during my own time in a Mental Hospital. My experiences, and the experiences of the people around me may differ from yours, so please take that into consideration.

\------

**Today's T/W:** Mentions of attempted suicide, substance abuse and eating disorders (In passing, not in focus.)

\------

Jongdae can’t see. This is a common occurrence on Mondays. 

Monday is new patient day, and the ever early, ever eager Jongdae shuffles down the carpeted hallway with a large pile of patient files obscuring his vision. 

The manilla folders sway precariously as he bends, trying to swing the lanyard around his neck so that the staff pass clipped to the end may make some form of contact with the electronic lock outside the nurse’s office. 

There’s a beep and a swish as the card registers and the doors slide open. A pair of hands, one still holding a bright pink lanyard, takes half of the manilla folders still balanced precariously on Jongdae’s arms. His vision is restored, and Baekhyun’s face pops into his line of vision. As per usual, he looks far too happy for someone awake at 6am. Though, Jongdae muses, it’s probably the cheery disposition and bright smile that makes him so popular with the patients.

“You don’t have to prove yourself constantly” says Baekhyun, voice as cheerful as his smile. It’s still too early for his level of enthusiasm. “Just half-ass it like the rest of us.”

Jongdae still wears a collared shirt and dress pants to work. 

He still hasn’t disassociated the idea that medical professionals should dress in formal wear. Jongdae supposes that it’s Baekhyun’s large smile and laid back aura is another that makes him a hit with the patients, managing to elicit a smile from even the most morose of them. 

Still, he eyes Baekhyun’s snapback and basketball jersey apprehensively as he follows the senior nurse into the break room, there’s a fine line between casual and unprofessional and Baekhyun toes the line with subtle defiance.

“There was a mass exodus yesterday” Baekhyun grumbles. “Of course there’s like, ten thousand new patients today.” the patient files make a loud thunk as he throws them onto the table. Jongdae makes a point to place his pile gently, avoiding the unimpressed glares of the night nurses, all of whom are tired and ready to go home. 

Jongdae’s only been with Theta for a few months; he’s still unsure about the name, and the people he’s asked have either shrugged and claimed they’re not sure either, or vaguely referred to some sort of Greek root. Name confusion aside, he’s unfamiliar with the regular patients; those admitted frequently, or for long periods of time. 

Baekhyun sees the first name on his pile and groans. He looks across to Jongdae’s pile and groans louder.

“Jesus Christ, we’ve got the Terror Twins in again.” he says. There’s a loud chorus of groans from the other nurses. 

“Terror… Twins..?” Jongdae asks tentatively. He’s mildly confused. 

“Yixing and Luhan.” Baekhyun replies, pushing the two files together. Each patient file has a photo on the front cover, allowing nurses to quickly distinguish between patients. Yixing has relatively long hair, staring absentmindedly into the camera. Luhan is making obnoxious peace signs next to his cheeks.

“Luhan refuses to take serious photos for his file.” says Baekhyun, sensing Jongdae’s confusion.

“What’s so bad about these two?” Jongdae asks idly, flicking through the files. Zhang Yixing: Schizoaffective Disorder. Lu Han: Bipolar Affective Disorder, Type one. Anxiety. “

“They seem like textbook cases.”

“Only when apart. During Luhan’s manic episodes he causes absolute chaos, and Yixing tends to encourage it. ”

“That sounds like a handful.” Jongdae muses, and for the hundredth time, wonders just what he’s gotten himself into, becoming a psychiatric nurse.

“It’s… difficult to deal with sometimes. But they react well to medication, so that’s a plus.” Baekhyun flicks through to the medical chart section of their file, humming while taking in the prescribed dosages.

“Oh, no.” Baekhyun sighs. “Yixing’s in for ECT. Poor thing.”

Jongdae looks at Yixing’s medication dosages; they’re high, frequent and varied.

“All those meds and it still hasn’t shifted? Poor guy.” 

“You should probably avoid calling Yixing a boy,” he starts, looking Jongdae dead in the eye, “Just letting you know.” 

“Why, he’s obviously male.” states Jongdae, confused.

“Yixing doesn’t identify as male. Use gender neutral pronouns like They and Them. They’ll open up to you easier, and be more cooperative if you try and understand.” 

“But, I don’t understand as it is?” Jongdae trails off, confused. 

“Ask Yixing when they get here. They’re alright with questions.” Baekhyun laughs. 

Jongdae still has a lot to learn. 

There’s a slight pause when Baekhyun moves onto a new file. There’s no photo on the front of this one. “Fresh meat,” he mutters. “They either haven’t been here before, or they’ve never been to a psych ward.”

“Kim Jongin,” Jongdae reads over Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Major Depression, Anxiety. Suicide attempt? His flatmate found him in the bathtub.” 

“Put him on fifteen minute visuals, search him and make sure he can’t get his hands on anything sharp.” replies Baekhyun, and for the first time since Jongdae started working with him, he sounds serious. ”I will be his nurse. Make sure the new guy isn’t on visuals for the first week or so. It could be… upsetting.”

There’s something Jongdae is missing here, but he doesn’t press it. The new nurse has handled suicidal patients before with no problem at all. And Baekhyun has only ever requested to be the nurse for a patient when he knows they’re planning to order pizza to the hospital behind the nurses back. 

He lets it slide. 

“Moving on,” Baekhyun’s voice is still sharp. “I…. don’t know what to call this guy. Li Jiaheng, Wu Fan, Wu Yifan, Kris Wu… I’ll check when he comes in.” There’s no photo on this file either, another patient to add to the fresh meat pile. “Oh. Combat PTSD.”

“Let’s get him an appointment with Doctor Kim as soon as possible, check out his condition.” Jongdae says, and Baekhyun nods quietly. 

“And maybe,” Jongdae tests the waters, “we should give him a single room? Just in case he has night terrors.” 

“Normally, I’d say yes.” replies Baekhyun “but there’s no room. They’ve put him in with Yixing so the Terror Twins can’t cause too much trouble.”

They sort through files, commenting, making notes, assigning rooms. Kim Jongin’s file is left to the side, and Baekhyun flicks his eyes towards it periodically. Jongdae still doesn’t ask.

“Oh Sehun. What have you done this time.” Baekhyun mutters softly. Jongdae looks over to the last file on Baekhyun’s pile to see a tall, lanky kid with a sobre expression. “ECT? Jesus Christ.” 

“He’s a little young to be an ECT patient, don’t you think?” enquires Jongdae “He looks about fifteen.”

“He _was_ fifteen when this photo was taken.” Baekhyun sighs “He’s about… twenty four now? I’ve never met someone more depressed in my life.” Running his hands through his hair, Baekhyun continues.

“Suicide attempts, eating disorders, drug addiction. He’s had it all. I guess they’re just gonna try and shock it out of his brain this time around.”

“Well if it works…” Jongdae trails off.

“He’s the sweetest kid ever. He doesn’t deserve this.” Baekhyun pulls Jongdae’s last file towards him. “This kid, on the other hand…” 

Jongdae sees a bright smile and blue hair. “Jesus.”

“Tao is a fun one. Rapid Cycling Bipolar Affective Type two, meaning he knows when he’s manic and depressed, but sometimes he likes to play on it a little. And his mood changes _constantly_. It’s a little hard to get him to go to bed sometimes.” Baekhyun shakes his head.

“But he’s a sweet kid too. Incredibly successful as well; he owns a hair salon.”

“No kidding.” says Jongdae, eyeing his hair.

Baekhyun eyes Zitao’s blood work, eyes flicking along the charts and readings.

“Hmmm. Sodium Valproate and Lamotrigine levels are really high, the meds should be working.” He keeps reading, squinting while trying to read the doctor’s atrocious handwriting. “Seems like he’s here for ECT as well.”

“More zombies.” Jongdae tries to crack a joke. 

“Don’t call them that. Don’t joke about it at all. Most of the patients are scared enough as it is. It’s not the same as it used to be, but remember Jongdae, for all intents and purposes, it’s _shock therapy_.” Baekhyun is glaring and Jongdae has never seen him like this before. He would never have snapped, maybe just lightly reprimanded him. Seeing Kim Jongin’s chart has triggered something in his fellow nurse that Jongdae just can’t quite place.

The door slides open and the tense atmosphere dissipates quickly, the new guy walks in, putting his bag under his desk and sliding a cardigan on.

“It’s freezing in here, can’t they turn the heaters up?” He asks, shivering slightly.

Before anyone can answer, the nurse’s call button rings loudly through the office. Three pairs of eyes fly towards the LED screen indicating the room in need of intention. The night nurses blatantly ignore it; it’s finishing time, any and all issues now fall onto the day staff.

“Do you wanna get that, Baekhyun?” Jongdae snickers “It’s your favourite patient.”

“Chanyeol probably wants me to get him coffee again.” He mutters. “‘Baek, my feet are cold, can you get me a mocha?’” He imitates in Chanyeol’s deep voice, but he’s smiling. It’s no secret that Baekhyun has a soft spot for their most frequent patient.

As he leaves, the new nurse speaks up. “Jongdae, would you like me to do the Board? I think I’m ready to allocate patients to nurses.”

Remembering Baekhyun’s reaction from earlier, Jongdae hesitates. “Uhh… I’ll do it today. Maybe you can do the morning rounds?” Jongin isn’t due in until midday. Hopefully Baekhyun’s figured out his issues by then.

“Sure.” He looks deflated, but he picks up the chart anyway and walks through the door.

Jongdae really hates Mondays.


	2. Day One: Cognition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Cognition:** _  
> Processes of knowing, including attending, remembering, and reasoning; also the content of the processes, such as concepts and memories._
> 
> **Today's T/W:** Mentions of healing self harm wounds.
> 
> \------

There’s a small alcove in the middle of a staircase in Theta; the brick walls make way for a large window pane, revealing a stunning view of the parking lot below to anyone who sits on the small wooden bench located in front of it. 

It’s Luhan’s place of solace. The courtyard, with its many benches and well-kept flower beds is a popular place for in-patients to spend their time, and sometimes Luhan just wants a little peace and quiet. He wants to forget that he’s in a mental hospital for the upteenth time. 

An ambulance pulls into the driveway, and he watches with lazy curiosity as a solemn looking boy with tanned skin and gauze wrapped around his left wrist is ushered towards the building. 

“Fresh meat.” A voice says from behind him. They’re speaking his mother tongue, and the familiar tones of Mandarin wash over him in comforting waves.

“When did you get in,” he asks, getting up off the bench to draw the other patient into a hug. Luhan smiles at Yixing as they draw apart and he gets a small one in return before they turn their eyes to the mystery patient. 

“About an hour ago,” Yixing replies, watching as the new boy breaks down sobbing at the door of the hospital. Their heart clenches; it’s obviously his first admission, and they remember the fear and uncertainty from their first time, too. “so much has changed.”

“There’s a bunch of new nurses.” Luhan comments, “They all look like kids.” 

“New grads. If one of them tells me the cure for depression is yoga, I’ll scream.” They say absentmindedly, watching as a nurse they’ve never seen before coaxes the frightened boy into the building and out of sight. 

“Nah, they’re pretty chill. One of them- Jongdae- told me that if he can’t sit still for an hour of yoga, he doesn’t expect me to.”

Yixing just hums, and a comfortable silence falls on the two. Outside the hospital, the paramedics bring the new patient’s belongings into the building before driving away. The brisk Autumn wind dislodges leaves from the trees lining the sidewalk, covering the cars and the footpaths below in a blanket of foliage. 

“Anyone else in?” Yixing looks sleepy, and Luhan suspects that the first order of business for his friends admission was an immediate dosage of Seroquel. 

“You just missed Jia. She got out yesterday.” He replies, “Chanyeol’s in too, but that’s not exactly a surprise.” 

“He knows more about this place than the nurses.” Yixing comments. And it’s true; Chanyeol is one of those long-term patients, spending a few months in hospital, leaving for a few more and then coming back. The mural in the courtyard was painted by him, and his habit of randomly wearing suits around the hospital has confused many visitors into thinking that he’s one of the psychiatrists, rather than a patient. The only thing that gives him away is his apparent inability to wear shoes.

“The ten year anniversary of his first visit, is coming up soon, apparently. If he’s in he wants to hold a party.” says Luhan.

“That won’t go down too well,” says Yixing, yawning as the medication begins to kick in. “Too much excitement, or something.” 

“He and Baekhyun -- another one of the new nurses -- are pretty close. I think they’re planning to get pizza.” 

Silence falls once again, the comfortable kind shared by two people just enjoying each other’s presence. While Luhan and Yixing don’t talk all that much outside of hospital, just knowing someone on the inside helps to ease the overwhelming loneliness and cabin fever. 

“Hey, what’s the bet that Chanyeol’s waiting at reception to greet Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody?” Yixing has started to drift off, so Luhan nudges him with his elbow to wake him up. Yixing just groans, rearranging their friend so that they can use his shoulder as a pillow. 

“I’m not betting on that, Luhan. We both know it’s true.” Yixing closes their eyes, resting their head against Luhan’s shoulder. He just runs his hands through Yixing’s hair until they both fall asleep.

______

“Hi! Welcome to Theta! I’m Chanyeol!” Jongin jumps as a loud voice all but screeches in his ear, the surprise causing him to fumble with the clipboard in his lap as he tries not to drop it on the ground. 

He fails, the sharp corner making contact with his damaged wrist. Jongin’s pained hiss is drowned out by the dull thud the board makes as it makes contact with the carpet.

The stranger next to him has his hand outstretched expectantly, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he’d almost given Jongin a heart attack. 

“Uh… Jongin.” he replies weakly, offering his uninjured hand by way of greeting. As awkward as the handshake is, he’s glad he’s using the healthy limb, as it feels like this strange man is trying to rip his arm from its socket. 

“You’re gonna love it here, Jongin!” cries Chanyeol. He’s a little bit too loud, but the receptionists seem to be unaffected by his behaviour. “It’s like… psych ward Hilton! The food is great, the beds are… well they’re okay. And the reception girls are total babes.” 

He winks at them and they giggle good-naturedly. 

“There’s no padded rooms or anything. Nothing to be scared of, newbie.”

“How did you know I’m new?” asks Jongin. 

“I’ve never seen you in here before. I’ve seen most people, and the ones I haven’t then I’ve heard of them. I’m an in and out patient; in one month, out the next.”

“That seems… kinda lonely,” Jongin replies pensively. He looks down and notices that Chanyeol is only wearing one sock. It’s got a hole in it and Chanyeol’s big toe is starting to stick out.

“I’m schizophrenic.” He says bluntly, but there’s still a massive grin on his face. “With all these voices in my head, it’s pretty hard to feel lonely.”

“Oh.” Jongin says, unsure how to respond. Chanyeol just laughs.

“One of the nurses will show you to your room, do an interview, all that kind of stuff. I can get you a hot chocolate from the kitchen while you wait?” he asks, trying to be gentle.

“I.. yeah sure. That sounds nice.” Jongin mumbles, and he watches as Chanyeol scampers down the hall.

Jongin stares at the paintings on the reception walls. He can tell that it’s trying very hard not to look like a hospital, with its plush carpets, large windows and a glass door leading to a beautiful courtyard. But there’s still something so sterile, so medical about it. It’s trying so hard, but it’s still such a disconcerting place to be in.

Jongin closes his eyes, fingers resting gently on his gauze covered wrist and tries to rest while waiting for Chanyeol to return.

______

There is a man sitting next to Sehun, spitting out rapid fire Mandarin into his phone while his leg twitches uncontrollably. 

Sehun snorts. He’s been here often enough that he can pick, to a degree, why a patient is here. And this guy is clearly bipolar. Manic episode, for sure. He seems kinda angry.

Whatever. Sehun doesn’t really care.

“Can I do your hair?” the man asks. “It has potential. Your face has potential. When you get out of hospital I will and yes flowers.”

“Can you repeat that?” Sehun replies, unsurely. Sometimes the Bipolar patients babble. Their brains tend to run faster than their mouths. 

The other patient inhales and exhales, calming himself slightly.

“My name is Tao and I run a hair salon. I would like you to model for me. I was thinking a flower-boy concept? Blonde, braided flowers, that kind of thing.” His leg is still twitching.

“I’ll pass.” Sehun’s too lazy and too self-conscious to pose in front of the camera. “But, hey man. I have a question.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Tao asks, face getting quite close to Sehuns and he immediately recoils.

“How many thoughts are you thinking right now.” 

Tao sits for a moment before answering “Six. No wait, now I’m thinking about thinking. So seven. Oh and now I’m thinking about thinking about thinking…” 

Sehun cackles as he walks away. The kitchen should be open by now, and he needs a coffee and a cigarette. 

______

 

Of course it would be Baekhyun. Of course. Life always fucks Jongin over in the worst of ways, but having Byun Baekhyun as his nurse while he’s stuck in a psych ward was the icing on the cake.

“Hey Jongin,” he says, waving his hand towards the seat next to his desk. “I see you’ve met Chanyeol.” He gestures towards the hot chocolate in Jongin’s hands.

“Unfortunately.” Jongin grumbles “Are you even allowed to be my nurse? Conflict of interest and all that shit?” 

“No one knows we’ve met before.” he narrows his eyes. “And if you tell anyone, you’ll be out of here and back into a locked ward. From what I’ve heard, they’re not fun.”

“You’re blackmailing me?” Jongin cries, and for the umpteenth time, hits his injured arm on something blunt and hisses.

“No. This place will be a lot of help for you, it’s a good hospital.” He smiles kindly, Jongin has flashbacks from the times he used to spend in his apartment, Baekhyun smiling at him while his arms were wrapped around Kyungsoo--- Jongin shakes the memory from his head. Now is not the time, nor the place for forgotten memories.

“Now, be a good boy and fill out these papers. I’ll show you to your room afterwards.”

Jongin sips on his hot chocolate quietly, answering questions about his mental health. _In the last three months, how often have you felt suicidal?_ Jongin snorts into his drink, before circling the _Always_ option on the page. 

Baekhyun files his questionnaires away, grabbing hold of one of Jongin’s bags and leading him down winding hallways until they find his room.

“It gets a bit confusing sometimes, but you’ll figure out where everything is eventually.” The eye smile is back and Jongin looks away “Your roommate came in today as well. He’s a regular, and he can show you a few things. You two are the same age, so play nice, okay?”

Jongin starts to unpack his things; he has a small closet next to his bed, a chest of drawers and a set of curtains that wraps around his portion of the room. He’s well aware that he’ll spend this admission with the curtains drawn and not ‘playing nice’ with the boy next door. 

Baekhyun watches him until he finishes folding his clothes. 

“Jongin,” he starts, and Jongin is well aware where this is going. “You know he missed you, that he still misses you, right?” 

Jongin doesn’t bother replying, just pulling the curtains closed with a dramatic flourish instead.

He hears a sigh from the doorway but Baekhyun doesn’t push it; sneakers padding softly down the hall. 

The light plays gently on the curtain. Jongin watches it until he falls asleep.

______

 

“Look I’m not saying you’re an asshole, but you’re an asshole.” Tao drops into the wooden bench beside Sehun, watching as he lights up a cigarette and takes a drag.

“However, you’re an asshole who has a lighter, therefore I am willing to forgive you.” Tao’s palm is open expectantly and Sehun hands it over with a light chuckle.

“Lots of people call me an asshole. What did I do to you, again?” Sehun enquires. He already knows, but it might be a little more amusing if Tao tells him himself.

“You know what you did! I was sitting there for ten minutes counting my thoughts! My nurse had to give me Valium in order to calm me down!” He’s practically shrieking by now, voice raising in frequency with each exclamation.

“Obviously, he didn’t give you enough.” says Sehun, and Tao just glares.

“Are you guys talking about Valium? I love that shit. All the effects of Seroquel but without the weight gain!” A third person joins their circle, draping his long body across one of the vacant benches. 

“No weight gain, no weird lucid dreaming. Valium is where it’s at.” Tao says, and everyone just nods in agreement. 

They sit in silence for a moment, the only noise coming from the inhale and exhale of cigarettes. 

“So now that we’ve swapped med stories, I feel like we should swap names.” The man on the third bench has twisted onto his stomach, bare feet raised into the air and the half smoked cigarette in his hand is angled dangerously towards his long hair. “I’m Chanyeol.”

“Oh God!” exclaims Tao excitedly, fidgeting in his seat and wildly gesturing towards Chanyeol. “You’re like an urban legend around here. Everyone’s got some sort of ‘Chanyeol Story’ to tell.”

“That’s me. The man, the myth. The legend.” He smiles wildly. 

“Sehun.” He offers quietly.

Tao’s introduction is a little more enthusiastic, yet just as short.

“Oh man, I’ve heard about you guys as well!” Chanyeol replies. He flicks the spent butt into a nearby ashtray, not even bothering to put the first one out before he lights up another. 

He turns to Tao.

“Didn’t you climb the roof and try to fly?” he asks excitedly. 

“Yeah, the nurses nearly had an aneurism trying to talk me down.” He says with a proud smile. “It was Baekhyun’s first day. Promised to let me dye his hair blonde if I got off the roof.”

He laughs fondly at the memory before turning to Sehun. “So what’s your deal? No offense but I’ve never heard of you before.”

“I’m just… always here. Come in for a month or two, out for six, rinse and repeat.” he’s finished his cigarette by now, and makes a show of putting the butt out before throwing it in the ashtray.

The others nod in understanding.

There’s a squeak as the door leading to the smokers courtyard opens and a tall man with a walking cane winces slightly as the cold air hits him. He’s far too young to be using a cane -- early thirties at the most-- and Chanyeol’s eyebrows furrow. Tao and Sehun, now bickering over who uses Sehun’s lighter first, pay him no mind.

The new addition sits as far away as he can on an unoccupied bench. 

“Hey, I’m Chanyeol, what’s your name?” Chanyeol prompts, while Sehun and Tao drop the lighter to regard him.

He pulls a pack of smokes out of his pocket, takes one from the box and dangles it between his lips while patting his pockets looking for a lighter. 

“Fuck off.” He spits as Chanyeol offers his own bright red Bic. He finds one one of his own, lighting the stick between his teeth and pointedly stares away from the group.

The mood is tense and heavy, no one muttering a word while the stranger takes deep inhales and exhales, smoking fast. Chanyeol silently hands Tao his lighter and he and Sehun stop fighting.

Finishing in only a few minutes, he walks back inside, still wincing at the cold air.

Tao waits for the door to click before speaking.

“What a jackass.” He drawls, he lounges on the bench like he owns it, legs crossed and elbow dangerously close to Sehun’s nape. “I mean, he could have said “No, I’m good” or something. “Fuck off” is a little too harsh.”

Sehun nods in agreement.

“Don’t judge too much. Everyone’s got their problems.” says Chanyeol, suddenly serious. “I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?” 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m here for the Lung Cancer Support Group, am I in the right place?” Comes a voice from the door. Chanyeol’s face lights up in recognition.

“Luhan, my main man!” he cries “and Yixing my main… uh… what do I call you?”

“Yixing is a majestic unicorn.” supplies Luhan. Yixing nudges Luhan in the ribs with their elbow, but smiles anyway.

“Yixing, my main majestic unicorn!” Chanyeol finishes. “Come, I made friends. You need to meet them.”

He clambers ungracefully over the bench, taking up his previous spot as Luhan and Yixing sit themselves down across from Tao and Sehun.

“Hey Sehun,” The two chorus. He offers a small wave in return.

“Wait, how come you know Sehun and I don’t?” Chanyeol cries.

“You know my room mate who left before you came in last time?” says Luhan, Chanyeol nods and Luhan just gestures towards Sehun with the end of his unlit cigarette. 

“Oooh.” Chanyeol says with dawning realisation.

Tao cuts through the conversation.

“You are wearing a skirt.” He says to Yixing immediately. It’s long and navy blue with a small intricate flower pattern adorning the fabric. It sits nicely on their hips.

“Is that a problem?” Yixing asks. Luhan’s hand is on their arm, he’s ready to leave if Yixing is.

“Not at all. I was just going to say that it suits you.” Luhan relaxes as Yixing smiles brightly.

“Can I ask your pronouns?” Tao asks again and Sehun flits back and forth between Tao and Yixing, who is now lighting their own smoke, exhaling and offering the flame to Luhan.

“They and Them. Anything gender neutral.” Sehun looks on in disbelief as Yixing replies.

“It took me so long to get pronouns and shit right for Yixing. How are you so good at this already?” 

“One of my staff members is gender fluid. They kinda explained everything to me already.”

“Fair enough.” Sehun says with a small smile.

Chanyeol takes a moment to stare at Sehun. For every story about Chanyeol, there’s a rumour about Sehun; he doesn’t believe them all, at least not now. Seeing him interact with Tao, with Luhan and Yixing, he’s definitely not as antisocial as he’s made out to be. 

But he eyes Sehun’s clothes closely; several layers of long sleeved shirts, covered with an oversized cardigan. It’s cold outside, but it’s not that cold. There’s no reason for Sehun to be wearing that many layers.

Unless one of those terrible rumours is true, and his arms are deformed by cut scars and burns. The poor kid hides his shame, his fresh marks under layers of cotton protection.

“Stop staring dude, that’s fucking creepy.” Sehun mutters through the cigarette in his mouth.

“Sorry, zoned out for a second.” Chanyeol laughs. 

“What were the voices telling you?” snarks Luhan, good naturedly. 

“The voices in my hair are telling me that _something_ needs to be done about your regrowth,” Interrupts Tao “And all the voices in my head are my own.”

There’s a scuffle as Luhan lunges for Tao, messing his neatly styled hair. The others watch on in amusement. 

Sehun’s smiling. 

Chanyeol supposes that he’s yet another one of Theta’s great mysteries.

______

 

Kris doesn’t belong here. Theta, it’s a place for crazies. He’s not crazy. 

He’s weak.

Not that he’ll admit it, but he’s lonely too. Funny how four little letters can destroy a friendship. 

_“You’re the best Commanding Officer we’ve ever had. We’d die for you.”_

And some of them did. That’s something he knows too well, something he’ll never forget. Especially when he sees their faces - blood stained and lifeless- every night when he sleeps. He wakes up with a gasp, the sweat soaking his shirt reminding him of how he was sweating when his body went into shock and the blood that poured from his leg, from the wounds of his platoon in battle. 

_So weak._

All of them killed people, all of them saw people die. Why was he the only one in hospital?

Kris runs a shaking hand through his hair, wishing for the hundredth time for a bottle of whiskey to miraculously appear on his bedside table. All he sees are smokes instead.

He thinks back to the loud guy in the courtyard, the immature brats fighting over a lighter. Kris couldn’t leave fast enough. 

And then he had to run into those two in the hallway. Those girly boys. From afar, it looked like a guy and a girl walking through the hospital together. The girl, yeah she was kinda hot. If he can’t drink, may as well give him some eye candy.

But no, she was a boy, a gross ass boy in a skirt. Kris felt sick.

They’re crazy, all of them are crazy. 

But not Kris. 

_He’s fucking pathetic._


	3. Day Two: Palilalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Palilalia:**   
>  _A speech disorder characterized by the involuntary repetition of syllables, words, or phrases._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today's T/W:** Homophobic slurs.
> 
> \------

“Hi, I’m Chanyeol!”

“What’s your name, mine’s Chanyeol!”

“Hey pal, Chanyeol here again!”

“Me, Chanyeol” He points to himself, “You…” He waits for a response. He doesn’t get one.

Chanyeol still hasn’t figured out the name of the grumpy guy in Room 21, though not for lack of trying. 

It’s not like Chanyeol’s being obnoxious (he is) but he feels as if it’s his civic duty to welcome all patients to the ward; the nurses are busy, the doctors are there to help them with their illnesses. There isn’t a welcoming committee, so Chanyeol has taken up the responsibility to become the founder, president and most active member.

“I don’t want to know your name.” And the Grumpy Guy has finally spoken. It’s not a name, but he’s not ignoring him, and it’s not a curse word, so Chanyeol feels like he’s making progress.

“You don’t want to know it, yet you already do! I mean, I’ve told you enough times...” He trails off, pouting. It’s unattractive. He does it anyway. “All I want is to know is your name.”

“...Kris.” He mumbles, before limping off down the hall.

Chanyeol stands in shock for a moment before running after him.

“Hey Kris, let’s go eat lunch together, and afterwards we can smoke with the others---”

Kris already regrets his decision to talk to him.

 

______

 

“So who is your roommate this time around?” Luhan asks Sehun, bumping their hips together as they walk off to get tea. When the cafeteria opens, there’s a hoard of patients waiting for hot drinks and small packets of biscuits.

“New guy. Doesn’t talk, doesn’t eat, cries himself to sleep.” Sehun shrugs, idly wondering if he could get away with taking a cafeteria tray out to the smoker’s courtyard; he’s got a multitude of drinks to remember, and no one willing to get up off their chair in order to get them.

“Sounds like you.” Luhan jests lightly.

“That’s probably why we’re in the same room.” Sehun sighs. “They probably think we’ll hold each other while crying and talk about our problems or some shit.” Sehun starts preparing Yixing’s green tea, pressing the button on the coffee machine for his own coffee in the mean time. “I don’t do feelings.”

“You don’t do _other people’s_ feelings,” Luhan corrects, busying himself with Tao’s Hot chocolate, one sugar, extra chocolate order. “The not eating thing is a bit concerning though.” 

Luhan presses the button for his own coffee as Sehun unwraps a Peppermint teabag, placing it in a cup. “I don’t really care,” Sehun replies. “Put hot chocolate in this one. It’s Chanyeol’s”

“Ahhh, yes, the Hot Chanyeol.” Luhan says fondly, “Peppermint tea brewed in a cup of hot chocolate.”

“I can’t believe he named it a ‘Hot Chanyeol’, Replies Sehun as he loads the tray with drinks “It’s literally a peppermint hot chocolate.”

“Chanyeol likes to think he’s pretty hot.” Luhan snickers.

“Chanyeol believes a lot of things that aren’t true.” Sehun picks up the tray, and Luhan trails after him.

“Speaking of hot,” Luhan says from behind him “You’re looking good. Vaguely muscular but with hella booty.” 

“You wonder why everyone thinks you’re gay, Luhan. Talking about people’s asses so casually.” The tips of Sehun’s ears burn red.

“No homo, man. I used to want to date the shit out of Yixing though, first time I met them. That’s about as close to homo as I get.”

Sehun nearly trips when he hears Luhan’s confession. “You and Yixing!?” he splutters. He almost spills the entire tray of drinks; some of Yixing’s tea spilling over the edge and onto his fingers, burning them. Luhan laughs as Sehun hisses in pain.

“We made out a few times but it felt weird. For both of us? Yeah. It’s not something we’ll try again any time soon.”

“Jesus Christ.There are some things I just don’t want to know...” Sehun trails off.

“Prude.” says Luhan, pushing the door open for Sehun.

There’s another new guy sitting in their smokers circle, and unlike everyone else there, he has absolutely nothing in his hands.

Sehun recognises him immediately. He’s seen his roommate once or twice, passing by each other when waiting to use the shower, or when his nurse pulls open his curtains to try and get him to take his meds.

“I didn’t know you smoked, Jongin.” says Sehun as he sits down, offering people their choice in drinks.

“I.. uh.. I don’t.” he says quietly. Tao seems to have a habit of pointing his cigarette at people when he talks, because he jabs the stick in Jongin’s direction.

“Then why are you in the smoker’s courtyard?” He asks and blows smoke in Jongin’s direction. To his credit, Jongin doesn’t cough, he just winces as the smoke hits his eyes.

“Nurse told me to sit outside for a while. This was the first door I found.” His voice has picked up a little. Jongin seems to be one of those people who are shy at first meeting, but open up over time. Currently, though, he seems to be uncomfortable with being the centre of attention.

“Normally I’m not an advocate for bad decisions,” starts Chanyeol, pointedly ignoring Luhan’s shouts of _Bullshit!_ while continuing, “But do you want a smoke?”

“I can roll you one, if you’d like,” Yixing says, delicately rolling tobacco in between their fingers, licking a stripe along the tacky paper. “It’s not as strong as a tailor if you roll it small enough.”

“Menthol’s where it’s at though,” says Luhan, pointedly popping the ball at the end of his cigarette. “Like smoking a stick of gum.”

Everyone’s heads turn towards a nervous looking Jongin, who quietly mumbles _Why not?_ under his breath before reaching for one of Luhan’s white Menthols.

“‘Atta boy,” says Chanyeol “Now you’ve got something to do in here. Sit with us, smoke and talk shit all day.”

“I don’t talk shit, that’s the rest of you.” says Tao, huffing. 

“You talk the most shit of all Tao, honestly.” Sehun replies, and the two bicker while Yixing and Luhan teach Jongin how to use a lighter.

“That’s it! Now bring the flame closer.” Luhan prompts after Jongin successfully keeps the flame lit for a few seconds.

“Like this?” he says around the butt, fumbling slightly. 

“Doing well,” says Yixing, their hand on his shoulder. “Remember to inhale as it burns the end. That’s how it lights up quickly.” 

Jongin coughs as the first wave of smoke hits the back of his throat. The second and third come easier, though Jongin burns through half the stick just waiting for his throat to recover. 

Luhan looks mildly upset about a wasted cigarette. 

There’s a tell tale slam as Kris enters the courtyard. Each of his entrances re becoming slightly more violent; especially after the rest of the smokers formed some sort of comradery.

Especially after finding out that Yixing is his roommate.

The window panes rattle violently this time, like it won’t be long before Kris’ strength shatters them completely. 

“Hey,” Yixing greets. “How are you today?” 

Kris merely grunts, not bothering to reply properly before beginning his ritual of patting himself down before finding a lighter. The group has long since given up offering theirs since their efforts go by unappreciated. 

As per usual, all conversation stops as Kris sits down. Everyone tries not to look at him, even Jongin noticing that the air is tense. 

“Why the fuck are you wearing a dress?” It’s the first time Kris addresses anyone in the group. Luhan’s hand customarily tightens on Yixing’s arm, and the others look on warily. 

“Because I want to.” Comes Yixing’s standard reply. It sounds brave but their voice is shaking. 

“Fucking faggot.” Spits Kris, and he throws his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and storms off, door rattling as he exits.

The air holds its tense aura, no one quite knowing what to say or do.

Jongin tries to inhale from the remnants of the stick in his hand, but chokes suddenly, throat still unused to the thick smoke. 

It breaks the tension in the air, the entire group erupting into fits of giggles. Tao is still manic -- although subdued by medication -- laughs the loudest, laughing into an uncomfortable looking Sehun’s shoulder.

Yixing relaxes completely, Luhan notices and is silently grateful to Jongin’s meager attempts at smoking.

“Alright boys, just doing a head count out here.” The new nurse walks out into the smoker’s courtyard. “Has anyone seen Kris?” 

“He was here before,” replies Yixing. “You just missed him.” Luhan looks at Yixing, as if to prompt them to tell the nurse about Kris’ sudden outburst.

“Oh okay.” He says, eyes never leaving the board in his hands.

“So we’ve got Chanyeol, Sehun, Yixing, Tao, Luhan and… Jongin?” He asks eyes suddenly flying toward the group.

“Kyung..soo?” Jongin replies weakly, trying to hide the bandage on his wrist. 

“Jongin I--” He’s cut off as Jongin stands and walks briskly past him, throwing the cigarette into the garden and making his way inside. 

“I’m not going to ask,” pipes Tao. “But I really want to ask.” 

Kyungsoo shoots him a look.

“There’s nothing to ask about, Zitao.” He says sternly. Kyungsoo’s got a reputation of being a sweet nurse until you cross him, and no one is quite brave enough to do so.

“Sure.” He drawls cheekily. 

“I have to finish my rounds. I’ll be seeing you, boys.” Kyungsoo offers a brief wave as he heads back through the door and down the corridor. 

“What was all that about?” Luhan asks as the door swings shut.

“Maybe he pissed off Kyungsoo or something. Like maybe he’s scared of him now or something.” Yixing replies, rolling themself another smoke. 

“Maybe.” Adds Chanyeol, but he’s smarter than he looks. There’s something going on here that no one’s willing to talk about.

The voices in his head buzz a little and he’s a little disorientated after the meds, but as Chanyeol walks past the nurse’s staff room, he swears he can hear crying.

______

“You knew.” Kyungsoo accosts Baekhyun as he’s about to enter his car. Their shift is over, it’s 3pm and they’re ready to go home. 

“Knew about what?” Baekhyun’s playing dumb. He’s too tired to deal with angry Kyungsoo.

“Jongin. You knew he was here. I looked up his file. You’ve been his nurse two days straight. You did his induction. You _knew_ he was here and you didn’t tell me.” he accuses, hitting his hand on the roof of Baekhyun’s car as emphasis. 

“This is why I didn’t tell you. You’ve reacted badly. You’ve reacted worse than I thought, actually.” 

“Yeah? How would you react in this situation? I just found out that Jongin is in a Psych ward. My psych ward. He’s here because he tried to kill himself, Baekhyun. I read the file and I saw his arm.” 

“You’re a nurse.” Baekhyun supplies “You’re supposed to view each patient objectively. Help them through their problems but not take those problems home with you. Jongin is a classic case of Conflict of Interest.”

“I can help him now.” Kyungsoo says, weakly.

“You couldn’t help him then, what makes you think you can do it now?” says Baekhyun. With that, he gets into the car and drives away.

Kyungsoo watches him go.

From the window, Jongin watches Kyungsoo.

______

“Do you know why you’re here, Kris?” Asks the Doctor. Deceptively young looking, he seems almost childlike next to Kris. He doesn’t trust this doctor. He doesn’t trust anyone.

“You’re the psychologist, you tell me.” He answers, fiddling with the little gold plaque on his desk. ‘Doctor Kim Minseok’ it reads, followed by a whole lot of letters Kris doesn’t particularly care for.

“Your chart says you have severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” All the staff in the hospital are tiny and sassy. Kris has just about had enough.

“I have a severe case of Pussy Disorder.” He says, after a long silence. “There was ten of us. Two died. Out of the remaining eight, I’m the only one having to deal with this bullshit.” he gestures towards his head.

The psychologist writes notes in his patient file. His handwriting is too bad for Kris to make out. 

“There is nothing shameful about PTSD.” He states calmly “There’s not a lot known about why certain people are more susceptible to the condition, and why others are not. Mostly, they’re saying it’s programmed into DNA.”

“So you’re saying that I’ve been pathetic since birth?” Kris is still playing with the plaque on his desk. Not once has he looked the psychologist in the eye. 

“No, I’m saying that it’s not your fault. That this is a natural reaction to a traumatic event.” 

“But it was my fault. Everything that happened, it was because of me. And now I have to deal with the consequences.” He finally looks at the psychologist.

“Let’s talk about that.” he says calmly. Kris takes a deep breath.

______

“Alright. Spill.” Sehun says as he walks into the room, closing the door. He knows Jongin’s awake because he heard the curtains slide close as his footsteps echoed through the corridor. 

“There’s nothing to spill.” comes Jongin’s muffled reply, head in his pillows.

“You’re shit scared of Kyungsoo. What’s your deal.” he opens the curtains, sitting on the end of the bed. “And you’re lucky it’s me asking. Tao wanted to poke your bandaged arm until you talked.”

Jongin sits up, rubbing said bandage gingerly. 

“Isn’t that… kinda torture?” 

“Being around Tao for long periods of time is kinda torture.” Sehun states plainly. 

“I… we have history. Me and Kyungsoo. It’s complicated.” Jongin gives in. 

“How complicated?” 

“He dumped me mid depressive episode kinda complicated.” Jongin sighs. 

“Kyungsoo is a psych nurse, there’s no way he’d do that to you.” 

“He was a history major. At least when I knew him.” Jongin replies, staring at the ground. “I guess you can say that our relationship is ancient history.” He laughs wryly at his own joke.

“That was terrible.” Sehun deadpans. 

“I know. It’s just… seeing him again, it brings up old wounds, you know?” Jongin fiddles with the ends of his bandages, they’re starting to come loose from how much he plays with them. 

“Like, I’m over him. It’s been four years. But it still hurts, what he said.” 

“What did he say?” Sehun prompts. He’s in way over his head. He doesn’t do feelings, doesn’t talk to anyone. He doesn’t care at all.

“ _Goodbye, Jongin. Enjoy the rest of your sad, lonely life._ ” Jongin recites. “It didn’t hurt at the time. I couldn’t really _feel_ anything.” Sehun nods, understanding, still vaguely uncaring. 

“But once I came to, I realised what he said. So I changed my number and ignored his calls.”

“Wait, so he tried to call you after you broke up?” Sehun is surprised. “Sounds like he wanted you back.”

“Yeah, well. I couldn’t trust him after that. What if he kept walking out? I couldn’t keep dealing with that shit.” He sighs, “and I couldn’t make him deal with mine.”

There’s a silence, and Sehun hears Jongin sigh.

“I dyed his hair that colour,” he mumbles, “It’s been four years and he still hasn’t changed his hair.” 

Jongin fiddles with the ends of his dark hair absentmindedly. 

“You know, I used to think that he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.” Jongin sighs again. He’s emotionally drained but too exhausted to cry; he’d wasted too many tears on Kyungsoo already.

Sehun pats him on the shoulder awkwardly, trying to touch as little of Jongin as possible, while still trying to be vaguely comforting.

“The most beautiful person… you’ve seen me, right? I’m way prettier.” Sehun jokes, and Jongin just laughs at him, the first genuine smile Sehun has seen from him.

“You’re terrible at this. I should have asked Baekhyun instead.” He laughs again anyway. “But thank you… for not judging me.” Jongin says as Sehun looks away.

“What for? That you’re depressed or that you’ve taken Kyungsoo’s dick up your ass?” Sehun asks, tactless.

“How did you know I--” Sehun cuts him off with a look. “Uh, both? I guess.”

“I’ve been dealing with depression for about ten years now.” Sehun surprises himself with the confession. He supposes people tend to guess his illness, but he’s never really openly told anyone but his Psychologist about his problems. “And I’ve had at least one dick up my ass.”

“Only one?” Enquires Jongin.

“I didn’t say _only_. I said _at least_ one.”

“Oh...So you’re the same as me?” Jongin asks. “I mean, about the depression and the… uh… dicks?” 

“I don’t usually tell people. Some you can pick straight away, some you can’t. A lot of people won't tell you at all.” Sehun shrugs.”The ‘dicks’ thing rarely comes up in conversation.”

“Could you pick me?” Jongin asks. 

“Yeah. I’ve been here often enough that you pick up the signs.” Sehun gestures towards the bandage around Jongin’s wrist. 

“Oh… right.” he says quietly. “Do you.. do you mind if I have a hug? I just… I just need contact right now. Is that okay?” It’s not really okay. Sehun shies away from physical contact as much as humanly possible. 

Sehun pulls him in, wrapping an arm around Jongin’s neck, idly playing with his hair. It’s awkward, the whole thing has been awkward. 

The sleeve of Sehun’s shirt slides up. If Jongin were to turn his head slightly he’d see the scars; cuts and burns and skin so damaged he can’t wear anything short sleeved. 

Awkward as it is, Sehun’s pretty sure that Jongin wouldn’t judge too much. He’s a little grateful for that. Maybe he’ll wear something with a shorter sleeve tomorrow.

______

Kris is exhausted. Mentally, physically, all around ready just to give up and call it a night. The psych session had ended in a flashback and his nurse had loaded him up with enough medication that he feels disoriented and drowsy. 

It feels like being drunk.

Kris might ask for more sometime.

He stumbles into his room, momentarily forgetting his cane as it clatters to the floor. There’s a sharp spike of pain in his injured knee and he hisses at the sensation.

“Here, let me help.” Kris recognises the soft voice of his roommate. He’s an angry drunk, but as subduing as the medication is, he’s still seeing red.

“Don’t… just don’t fucking touch me.” He slurs, medication starting to affect his motor skills. “I don’t need your help, you fucking fairy.”

“Fine.” Yixing says smashing their curled palm against the call button in their room. “The nurses can help your bigoted ass up. I don’t care.” 

They walk out of the room as the nurses race in, helping Kris into his bed without aggravating his knee. 

Kris watches as Yixing’s skirt swishes behind them as they exit. 

That night, the nurses find Yixing in Luhan’s room, curled up together as they sleep. Considering Kris’ earlier outburst, they let it slide. 

__________________________________________________________________________


	4. Day Three: Acetylcholine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Acetylcholine:**  
>  _A neurotransmitter in the brain, where it helps to regulate memory, and in the peripheral nervous system, where it controls the actions of skeletal and smooth muscle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today's T/W:** Mentions of attempted suicide, detailed description of a panic attack, medical procedures (ECT/'Shock Therapy')
> 
> \-------

“Good morning Sehun, it’s time to get up.” Jongdae is uncharacteristically sweet. Sehun doesn’t trust him. He checks the time on his phone, recoiling as the bright light illuminates his face. 

“It’s 7am. Why am I awake at 7am? Give me my meds and let me sleep for another year.” He grumbles into his bed sheets.

“ECT, Sehun. It’s your first session.” Jongdae replies and _oh_ that’s why he’s being so nice.

“All the more reason to stay in bed.”

“This isn’t really negotiable.” Jongdae says, ripping the covers off. Sehun curls into a ball and groans loudly. 

“Shut up.” He hears Jongin say from the other side of the curtain 

“If he can sleep in why can’t I?” Sehun asks, sliding his feet into his slippers. He can’t be bothered changing out of his pyjamas. 

“Because Jongin doesn’t have an ECT appointment booked for this morning.” Jongdae says flippantly. “But his nurse will be around very shortly with his meds. Sunny doesn’t have her nickname for nothing, Jongin.” 

“Why is everyone so opposed to sleep in this place?” Jongin says. 

"We want you to form some kind of routine.” Answers Jongdae simply, before turning to Sehun “Stop stalling. You need to come with me, now.”

The other patients stare as he walks through the hospital. He’s heading towards a corridor with a single room at the end. They know what’s about to happen. 

He’s going to be put under, and they’re going to administer volts of electricity into his brain. He’s going to feel sick and disoriented afterwards. Sehun will forget things. 

He’s an ECT patient. 

“So, they got you too?” Tao asks him as he’s brought into the waiting room. He too is still in his pyjamas, hair messy. Shaking.

“Not for lack of trying.” Jongdae mutters.Tao laughs dryly as his legs shake.

“We’re in this together, okay?” Tao reaches over and holds his hand. Sehun pulls away

One of the nurses comes to get Tao, and he waves over his shoulder.

“See you on the other side!” He says.

He watches as Tao is ushered through the door, Sehun refusing to watch the clock until it’s his turn. Yixing sits in the seat next to him, a silent, comforting presence that eases his nerves a little. 

Tao returns from the room, Kyungsoo has eased him into a wheelchair and is pushing him back out into the hallway. He doesn’t seem to recognise Sehun. He looks like shit, if Sehun is honest with himself; dazed, confused. He looks like he might throw up at any given moment. 

“You’re up.” Says Jongdae, running a soothing hand across his shoulders. “You’ll be alright.”

“If you say so.” Sehun is scared. He’s so scared. He’s seen too many horror movies. He doesn’t want this.

They administer the anesthetic. It’s a pleasant buzz, a wonderful high. It’s the last thing he remembers before everything goes black.

______

 

“You look like shit.” Luhan says to Tao as he lies across a bench in the smoker’s courtyard, groaning. 

“I feel like shit,” Tao whines, “I didn’t know ECT would make me this sick.” He dry heaves around his cigarette.

“Hey hey hey don’t throw up around me, that will make me sick.” Luhan scampers backwards along the bench, trying to increase the distance between himself and an ill looking Tao.

A tired looking Sehun walks through the door, holding a cup of water rather than his customary coffee. He downs the entire thing in one go, throwing the disposable cup into the bin beside Luhan. 

He sits, gingerly, removing smokes from his pockets and lighting one up, exhaling with a shaky breath.

“How’re you feeling, man?” Asks Luhan, “You’re not gonna throw up on me or anything?”

“My nausea isn’t that bad,” Replies Sehun, vaguely monotone, “But I feel like I’ve just run a marathon. My entire body hurts.”

“Do you have the whole fish tank thing going on?” Tao asks, vaguely gesturing to his head, “Because I feel like I’m listening to all this from underwater.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fish tank,” Sehun starts, “But I feel like I’m dreaming.”

The door slams against the wall as it opens, both Sehun and Tao groan in pain. 

“Hey boys, how did your lobotomies go?” Chanyeol booms, followed by a soft yelp of pain as Yixing elbows him in the ribs. 

“Now’s not the time.” They hiss, going to rub their head slightly with their hand, before realising there’s a cup of hot tea in it, staring blankly at the beverage before switching to the other hand as they massage their temple. 

They assume their customary seats, Chanyeol’s single socked feet dangling in front of Sehun’s disgusted face and Yixing curling into Luhan’s side. 

“How are you feeling,” Luhan whispers, hand stroking Yixing’s hair gently, “You don’t look so good.”

“Sleepy,” They mumble into Luhan’s neck, “and I’ve run out of tobacco. Can I borrow a smoke?”

Luhan lights the stick for them, taking a deep inhale before pressing the stick between Yixing’s lips. 

“There you go.” He says, and Yixing mumbles their thanks incoherently. 

The courtyard is no longer filled with conversation and the occasional fits of laughter, instead of mild groaning and occasional complaints about the anchoring pads for the ECT procedure leaving a nasty, goo-like substance on their foreheads. 

“My hair is ruined,” Tao mutters as he attempts to rub the sticky mess from his forehead. “It’s so gross.”

“You’re gross.” Sehun replies sleepily. 

“Hey---” Tao starts to reply, only to be interrupted as the courtyard door opens softly, Jongin sheepishly stepping out, fingers trailing along a neatly trimmed hedge until he reaches the circle of benches.

“Um,” He addresses Luhan shyly, “I was wondering if I could… uh… have another cigarette?”

“Sure man,” Luhan motions towards the green and white box on the table, “Knock yourself out.”

The second stick is somewhat smoother, Jongin figures out how to properly use the lighter and he coughs less this time around. Chanyeol is somewhat impressed.

“I get some leave tomorrow, if anyone needs anything,” He says, staring plainly at Jongin “I can grab you your own pack if you want?”

“I.. yeah sure.” Jongin replies. “I’ll have the same as Luhan.”

“I can’t believe they’re letting you out but not me.” Luhan stares at Chanyeol. 

“They’re giving me an hour. Enough time to walk to the shops and buy my weight’s worth of snacks.” 

Yixing bolts upright. Staring at the corner of the courtyard. There’s a small bed of flowers littered with cigarette butts but for the most part, there’s nothing there.

“What--” Someone starts, but they can’t recognise the voice.

“Luhan. He’s here.” They whisper quietly. “He’s here and he’s staring and oh God I have to go.”

They fling their butt into the hedge and walk swiftly through the door and out of sight.

“What was that?” Asks Jongin, finally finishing his cigarette. He’d done pretty well, all things considering, and he’s quite proud of how well he’s taken to them.

“That,” Starts Luhan, worriedly looking at the corner Yixing seemed so terrified of just moments before “Is not my story to tell.”

\------

_Thinking of you.  
Feel better soon. _

Jongin stares at the bouquet of flowers on his nightstand. There’s a mix of yellow and white flowers he doesn’t recognise; it blends in with the hospital walls but the spattering of green foliage in the arrangement makes it pop. Quite frankly, it’s beautiful.

Jongin pulls out his phone. He’s had it on charge permanently since he’s been in hospital, but no one has called. 

He dials Taemin’s number. 

He picks up on the fourth ring.

“Hey” Jongin says shakily “What’s up?” 

“After everything that’s happened, you open with ‘What’s up.’ Incredible.” Taemin sounds angry, but Jongin supposes it’s justified. 

“I just wanted to call you. Say sorry. Thank you for the flowers.” 

“Say sorry-- Flowers-- I--- Jesus, Jongin, you scared me to death.” Taemin sighs into the phone. “I thought, you know, maybe you’d tell me if you were… if you felt like that? I always wanted to help.”

“I know.” Taemin didn’t help at all. But Jongin supposes that he never quite told him how to.

“I’ve been seeing a councillor, you know. I can’t get the image out of my head.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jongin’s on the verge of tears. “I didn’t mean for you to find me.”

“I’m the only other person in that apartment, Jongin!” Taemin yells, but his voice is wavering. “I come home to find blood everywhere and my best friend bleeding out in the bathtub. I can’t forget that; not now. Not ever.”

“I’m so sorry.” Jongin is crying openly now, and he can hear small sniffles on the other end; Taemin is crying too. 

“Just… you’re in that place to get better. So get better, okay?” 

“I will. Do you forgive me?”

“Not yet. But you know that I love you, man. You know that right?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Jongin wipes his tears on his blanket.

“I’ll come visit when I can, alright.” 

“Alright.”

They hang up the phone and Jongin collapses onto his bed, sobbing openly. They’ve taken the bandage off but there’s still fresh cut marks across his left arm. 

He stares at them for a moment before sobbing harder; he’s a mess a worthless, hopeless worn out mess. 

“Jongin--” a voice starts at the doorway, and Jongin flings himself at them, vision hindered by tears. 

He’s hiccupping, he can barely breathe but the hand on his back is so calming so familiar so---

“Don’t touch me!” Jongin screams, pulling away from Kyungsoo. “Just.. don’t..” 

Jongin’s breathing speeds up and the invisible hands start to crawl their way across his body. He’s choking now, on the floor, tears running down his face as he starts to claw at his arms.

He can’t breathe, can’t focus on anything but the _fear fear fear_ and it’s all so familiar to him, he knows this panic like an old friend.

Jongin’s fingernails scrape through the healing wounds and blood breaches the skin where the scab has broken. He takes no notice, clawing and clawing like the panic might seep out with the blood.

Kyungsoo moves towards him.

“I said don’t touch me!” He’s positively screaming by this point; sobbing and dry heaving and Kyungsoo just stands there, frozen. He wants to help but he can’t do anything.

Baekhyun and Jongdae rush into the room. Jongdae hands Jongin a concoction of medication; Seroquel, Valium, Restoril. Things to ease the panic, make Jongin sleep the fear away.

Jongin gulps them down with shaking hands, and Jongdae helps him into bed while Baekhyun drags Kyungsoo from the room.

“What the fuck was that?” Baekhyun hisses quietly.

“He was crying, I only wanted to help.” Kyungsoo hisses back. “It’s my job. I’m a nurse. I _help_ my patients.”

“Only he’s not your patient.” Says Baekhyun “He’s Jongdae’s patient and you were completely out of line.”

“I was only---”

“Save it. You know I have to make an incident report about this, don’t you?” Baekhyun sighs. “I know we’re best friends. I know outside of work the roles are reversed. But I’m your senior nurse here, and you just caused a patient to have a panic attack.” 

“I understand.”

“This isn’t going to end well.”

“I know.”

“Lets just see what Junmyeon has to say about this, okay?”

Baekhyun leads him through the hallways to the Head Psychiatrist’s office. He’s not the head of hospital, per se, but he is the head of staff. If the incident needs to be taken higher, he’s the first port of call.

______

“How are going with the higher dosage of Seroquel?” The Psychiatrist asks. Yixing just stares at him blankly.

“I feel like a zombie” They say, yawning. 

“That is an… unfortunate side effect, yes.” He says “Are you sleeping? Because that’s what we’re aiming for here. ” 

“No. I’m still depressed. The thing’s in the corner. It won’t leave me alone.” Their answers are short, nonchalant. It’s obvious they don’t want to be in the office with their doctor.

A knock interrupts their session and Baekhyun’s face appears in the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt, Junmyeon. But this is important.”

“It’s fine,” replies Junmyeon “I was about done anyway.”

He turns to Yixing. “We’ll keep you on the same dosage for a few more days before upping them again. We’ll schedule you in for a blood test too.”

“Wonderful,” Yixing replies sarcastically. “I guess you should come along too.” They motion towards the empty corner as they exit the room.

“Well that was---” starts Baekhyun.

“You mentioned a situation?” says Junmyeon tersely. The hallways were no place for gossip.

“We’ve had a small issue with Jongin from Room 17.” says Baekhyun, and Junmyeon frowns.

“Has he tried to hurt himself again?” 

“No. He’s fine. Shaken but fine.” says Kyungsoo.

“He’s shaken? The patient has anxiety, I hardly think that calls for an emergency meeting.”

“Jongin has-- the patient has had an adverse reaction to Kyungsoo’s presence.” Says Baekhyun quietly. 

“And why is that?” Baekhyun hates it when Junmyeon uses his Psychiatrist Voice. They’re all friends outside of work.

Neither Baekhyun nor Kyungsoo say anything. They’re too scared.

“Well? I have patients to see--”

“I’m his ex-boyfriend.” Kyungsoo finally speaks, barely a whisper. 

Junmyeon narrows his eyes.

“Inside, now.” Kyungsoo makes for the door while Baekhyun makes to leave. “Both of you.” He snaps and both of them flinch.

They sit gingerly, seated on the patient’s chairs while Junmyeon reclines in his leather office seat.

“So. What did you do to cause this?” He says.

“Cause his panic attack or his aversion?”

“Both.” Replies Junmyeon tersely.

“I broke up with him while he was badly depressed. And I uh….” Kyungsoo sighs, “and I wasn’t too nice about it.” 

Junmyeon ignores Kyungsoo, turning to Baekhyun instead. 

“Did you also know about this?” He asks, hands folded.

“Yes.” Baekhyun’s head hangs, voice soft.

“And you also knew the patient before he was admitted.”

“Yes.”

“They only met a few times.” Says Kyungsoo. If he can’t save himself he can at least save his friend. “It was hardly a friendship.” 

“Noted.” Says Junmyeon before humming in disappointment. 

“Today I heard him crying in his room---”

“Kyungsoo shut up!” Baekhyun hisses.

“I was just doing my duty as a nurse,” he says determinedly. “If a patient is in distress it’s my job to help them.” 

“You didn’t help this patient,” Junmyeon points out. “You aggravated the situation.” 

Junmyeon sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “He wasn’t even your patient to help. You should have gone to the appropriate nurse and let them deal with it.”

There’s a terse silence. 

“I could punish you both. I could fire you for this.” Both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo inhale sharply, awaiting their fates. “But I’m not going to.” 

They exhale, the weight lifted from their shoulders.

“However, there are restrictions to be put in place.” 

“Of course.” They say in chorus. 

“Kyungsoo. You are not to interact with the patient unless he initiates it. You are not to seek him out unless you are performing visual checks. And most importantly, neither of you are to discuss your past connection to with anyone. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” They chorus once more. 

“Now leave, both of you. We all have patients to attend to.”


	5. Day Four: Déjà vu.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Déjà vu:**   
>  _(From French) Meaning "Already Seen."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today’s T/W:** Mentions of self-harm scars (healed, minor)
> 
> \------

Sehun thinks Chanyeol is great. Honestly, he’s a great guy. He knows more about the hospital than the nurses, knows tips and tricks on how to make hospital food more edible. 

But a rambling, pre-med Chanyeol isn’t the Chanyeol anyone should have to endure.

“Look I’m not saying there’s aliens here, but have you seen Kyungsoo?” He places his fingers on his eyelids, pulling his eyes open to make them look bigger. “It’s the eyes man. Big like the aliens. Same height too. Wearing human skin.”

“But your eyes are big too, Chanyeol,” Sehun replies, tiredly. He’s up earlier than everyone else, so he has no one to support him as Chanyeol rambles. Sehun wanted to enjoy his morning coffee and smoke in peace.“Yeah, because of the experiments. My eyes were small as a child, and now they’re huge!” 

“Plus,” He adds, taking a shaky drag of his cigarette. “Kyungsoo like, follows me. I see him everywhere. All the time. He’s watching me, I can tell.” 

“He’s doing the rounds. He has to check where the patients are and see if anyone has gone missing.” Sehun is too tired for this shit. “It’s his job.” 

“Well I’m glad Baekhyun is my nurse today. I wont have to deal with Kyungsoo poisoning my meds like he did last night.” 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” 

Baekhyun appears, Chanyeol’s patient file under his arm and paper cups in hand. Sehun watches him lazily as he struggles to turn the handle with his feet and push the door open at the same time. 

He spills water onto his shirt and Sehun chuckles. 

“Chanyeol, take your meds.” he says, eventually managing to get the door open.

“Finally,” Sehun breathes “He’s been going on about aliens for God knows how long.” 

Baekhyun frowns slightly. 

“I’ll get some PRN.” He says after Chanyeol downs his medicine. 

“ ‘wassat” Jongin mumbles sleepily as he slips into the seat beside him, Sehun hadn’t even heard Jongin walk through the door, much less taken one of his cigarettes to light up.

“PRN,” He exhales the smoke, not noticing Sehun’s affronted look after being caught stealing a cigarette. “What is it?”

“Emergency meds,” Supplies Baekhyun, watching the scene with mirth, “Ones that will make you calm down during periods of high brain activity, or to help you sleep.”

“Well arent you a walking textbook.” Says Sehun, still glaring at a sleepy-looking Jongin.

“Don’t make me write you up for misconduct.” Baekhyun retorts, glaring at Sehun.

“Try me.” Sehun pokes his tongue out.

“Anyway, I have you as well. Meet me at the medicine room?” He looks over to Chanyeol, who is rolling around on the bench. “Actually bring him with you.”

Chanyeol hums the Mission Impossible theme as he drags Sehun through the hallways, seemingly on the look out for Kyungsoo. 

“You know it’s Kyungsoo’s day off today, right?” Sehun says but Chanyeol ignores him.

“It’s never a day off for Aliens. They don’t believe in holidays.” 

“Right.”

Chanyeol makes it to the medicine room safe and Kyungsoo-free, and knocks on the window waiting for Baekhyun. 

Opening the small window he passes two more cups out for Chanyeol. 

“Take these, they’ll make you feel better.” he says and Chanyeol gulps them down immediately.

“And these are for you.” He passes Sehun his own two cups, one holding water, the other with three white pills. Sehun looks at him strangely. He usually takes two. “We’ve run out of 100mg tablets. You’re going to have to take 50’s until we can order more in.”

“Get your shit together.” Sehun laughs before downing the pills.

“And you should check your attitude.” Baekhyun replies. “Speaking of checks, I’m on visuals. See you boys later.”

He walks off with a wave. Chanyeol follows sleepily and Sehun just heads back outside, looking forward to an uninterrupted smoke. 

His coffee’s gone cold. There’s a cigarette butt floating in it, and Sehun is willing to bet that it was Kris who put it there. Jongin is surprisingly absent.

______

“Take a seat, Jongin.” Says the Psychologist, adjusting himself on his leather office chair. “We haven’t met yet, but my name is Kim Minseok. You can call me what you like.” 

“Sure.” He replies blankly, and Minseok makes sure to flick through his files as Jongin stares at the artwork decorating the office wall. 

“We’re not going to do much today,” He says, looking at Jongin with a kind expression, “I just want to get to know you a little, and then do some breathing exercises before you go.”

“So we’re not going to talk about feelings?” Jongin asks, bewildered.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know you, Jongin.” He has a cute, toothy grin. It’s comforting. “But I have one condition. You’re not allowed to say anything negative about yourself.”

Jongin takes a deep breath before starting. It’s difficult, to begin with, but he surprises himself with how many good qualities about himself that he can list; he talks about his passion for reading, how he’s not bad at singing, before sheepishly admits to thinking that his skin is actually a really nice colour.

He rubs absentmindedly at the scars on his arms.

The session ends with Minseok’s soft voice coaxing Jongin through a series of breathing exercises, deep inhales and slow exhales, calm breathing while detaching himself from the world around him; noticing the sounds of the nurses walking past the door, the smell of the kitchens as they prepare lunch, the feeling of cloth against his skin.

Jongin leaves the room with some of the weight lifted from his shoulders, and the calmest he’s been in years.

\------

“SWEET JESUS.” Chanyeol chokes into his drink, nearly dropping his cigarette “Yixing, as your father I cannot let you wander around the hospital looking like that.”

Yixing flips him off as they walk towards the benches, customary green tea in hand.

“I do what I want.” They say, before holding their hand out expectantly, “Now, Daddy, didn’t you have something for me?” 

Chanyeol chokes again, before gathering his wits and pulling a pouch of tobacco, filters and rolling papers out of his pockets before wordlessly handing them over.

“Thanks Daddy.” Yixing says sweetly, before opening the packets and combining them into a freshly rolled smoke. 

No one notices as the courtyard welcomes a new guest, Yixing is staring off into the corner once more and Chanyeol with his eyes still on Yixing.

“Woah,” Breathes Jongin, “Yixing, man you look good.”

Yixing just beams, their choice of outfit has caused many head turns and compliments, and they’re quite flattered. Even Jongdae had mentioned that his small white shorts, low cut grey tee and black cardigan combo was a nice choice -- although possibly a little weather inappropriate, considering their habit of spending most of the day outside.

Jongin joins Chanyeol in staring at them, a little dazed, before he’s hit by unidentified projectiles hitting his face and chest.

“What was that for?” Jongin groans, searching for what hit him while glaring at Chanyeol.

“Your smokes, and a lighter.” Chanyeol replies, pointing out where they’d landed on the bench. “We usually get a little bit of leave, between one and four hours to go out and ‘be part of the real world’ or something.” 

His fingers curl into quotation marks in the air as he says ‘The real world’. 

“When will I get some?” Asks Jongin as he picks up the pack of menthols from the bench, unwrapping the plastic.

“Whenever your psych says you can,” Replies Chanyeol, “If you aren’t considered ‘dangerous’ to yourself, or others, you can leave more often or for longer periods of time.”

More quotation marks around the word ‘dangerous’ and Chanyeol nearly tangles his cigarette butt in unkempt hair.

Jongin nods as he lights up the first cigarette from his own pack, he feels quite accomplished. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna go bother Baekhyun while he does his rounds.” Chanyeol winks as he leaves, putting the butt out and slamming the door behind him.

Both Yixing and Jongin wince a little.

Yixing puts their cigarette out before turning to Jongin, “Can I swap a rolled smoke for a menthol? I kinda feel like one today.” 

“Sure man,” Jongin replies, passing the white stick over, “Swap as many as you want. I want to try a few other types of cigarettes anyway.”

Yixing busies themself with rolling the tobacco for Jongin. They pull the shredded leaves from the bag, placing it with a small, cylindrical filter onto white paper. They begin pinching and rolling their fingers together until the paper is circular, before licking the adhesive strip and sealing the whole thing closed. Jongin watches on in fascination.

“If you like this, I can teach you how to roll,” They say as they pass it over to a bewildered Jongin. “It’ll give you something to do in here.”

Jongin hums his thanks, breathing smoke out through his nose--- a trick Sehun taught him the day before.

“By the way, I meant what I said before.” Jongin says,placing the rolled tobacco into the empty place in the box made by the stick between his lips. “You look really good.”

“Thanks.” Says Yixing, as they finish assembling their own smoke.

“I’m not all that fashionable,” Jongin gestures to his mismatched pyjamas with a smoke free hand, “But I didn’t know that stuff was in fashion for guys.”

Jongin inhales smoke and exhales again before continuing, “and like, the skirts and stuff? I didn’t know that was ‘in fashion’ either.”

“It’s not.” Mumbles Yixing, fidgeting. 

“Then why do you....” Jongin trails off, staring at Yixing. 

“I don’t like being a boy.” Yixing’s eyes are on the ground, with the familiar presence of Luhan missing, they feel nervous. 

“So you want to be a girl?” Jongin asks? “I get that, we had a really pretty transwoman at our school and---”

“No, it’s not that,” Yixing sighs. “I don’t want to be either.”

“But you still have a…” Jongin trails off, vaguely gesturing to Yixing’s crotch, “Right?”

“Yes Jongin, I still have a penis.” Yixing deadpans.

“But…”

“There’s a difference between biological gender and mental gender.” Yixing starts, “I’m Genderqueer. In my head, I am not male or female. I am just Yixing.”

“I… don’t really get that.” Jongin says solemnly, “But I’ll try? It was hard calling Gibwoon ‘she’ at first, but I got there.”

Yixing smiles softly.

“Trying is good.” 

 

\------

 

Sehun hears Tao before he sees him.

There’s a shrill cry of “SEHUN!” before a solid body mass slams into him, nearly knocking his coffee out of has hand.

“What do you want.” Sehun mutters as he tries to remove himself from Tao’s death grip.

“Come to cooking class with me!” Tao pouts. It’s very close to Sehun’s face. Sehun still cannot remove himself from Tao’s death grip.

A tuft of brown hair enters his vision.

“Jongdae, help me!” He cries, struggling.

“Now, Sehun, I think that cooking class would be good for you,” He snickers “Making friends, making strawberry cheesecake, eating strawberry cheesecake…”

“I don’t want to make strawberry cheesecake!” He cries, Tao has shifted himself so he’s essentially backhugging Sehun with an _extremely_ tight grip.

“You can give all your cheesecake to me.” Tao says, nuzzling his face into Sehun’s neck. It feels kinda nice.

_Help me._ Sehun mouths to Jongdae, who just winks at him. 

“Have fun, kids!” Jongdae yells as he walks away, down the corner and away from sight.

“Traitor.” Sehun mumbles under his breath, before turning to Tao. 

His face is still in the crook of Sehun’s neck and the action brings them face to face, noses touching. Sehun brings his hand up to Tao’s hair, ready to pull him off, but Tao shifts his face first. His eyes flutter closed, Sehun can feel Tao’s breath on his lips, can feel them getting closer to him, almost about to----

“Get a room!” Chanyeol hollers from down the hall, before cackling and scampering after a disgruntled looking Baekhyun.

Sehun jumps backwards away from Tao, pointedly not looking at him, even when arms wrap around his waist again; this time softer.

“Cheesecake?” Tao ask, voice high pitched an cutesy in Sehun’s ear.

“I… fine. Cheesecake.” 

Tao grabs his hand as they run towards the cooking class.

Sehun doesn’t pull away.

\------

“How are you today, Kris?” Jongdae asks as he walks into his room. Yixing is absent, though that’s not at all uncommon.

“Fine. I’d like a new roommate, though.” He says, looking Jongdae in the eye. He just raises an eyebrow. From reading the patient files, Yixing is nothing but a lovely roommate, even during bouts of psychosis.

“And why is that, Kris?” Jongdae has his nurse voice on, there is no room for friendliness in conversations with this particular patient.

“I don’t like him.” Jongdae’s eyebrow raises again. 

“You need to tell me why.”

“His clothes are weird. He’s weird.” Kris replies.

“So you’re saying they make you feel uncomfortable?” Jongdae deadpans. “You want a new roommate because your current one wears clothes you don’t like.”

“Yes.” Replies Kris gruffly.

“Have you ever considered,” Starts Jongdae, nurse voice still on “That your roommate’s choices in clothing are none of your business?”

“I have to deal with him, so yes, _it is_ my business.” 

“They’re rarely here. I know for a fact that Yixing spends their time either in Luhan’s room or outside.” Jongdae can’t afford to switch Kris into a new room. There’s the paperwork, sure, but there’s also few patients who would be able to deal with Kris’ behaviour. 

“What’s with all this ‘they’ shit,” Kris hisses, “Last time I checked, there was only one of him.”

“Maybe you should ask Yixing about that.” Jongdae says, exasperated.

“Maybe you should switch me into a new room so I don’t have to!” Kris roars, standing up from his bed with a wince as his injured knee holds him up, unsupported. Jongdae flinches slightly.

“I can’t, Kris.” He replies. “But I’m going to go get you some Seroquel. You’ll feel better once you sleep a little.”

Kris knows he won’t feel better, but he likes the effect of the anti-psychotics; they let him sleep, and after he wakes up, he feels like he’s drunk.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts as Jongdae reappears in front of him, shoving a paper cup under his nose.

“Here,” he says tersely. “100mg of Seroquel. You’ll sleep like the dead.”

Kris takes the medicine without thanks, holding the pill under his tongue until it flows down his throat with the water. 

Jongdae wordlessly takes the cups from Kris hands and leaves silently.

Kris lies in bed and waits for sleep to take him.

 

\------

Chanyeol calls out to Sehun and Tao as they enter the cafeteria. Sehun remembers what he’d seen in the hallway and tries to hide his shame with a plate of cheesecake. 

Tao grabs his hand (again) and drags him towards the table, presenting their cute, mini cheesecakes to the group with a grin and a dramatic “Ta da!”

Sehun barely represses the urge to throw them violently onto the plastic surface, managing to put them down roughly instead.

“Those are cute,” Jongin stares at the little cakes with wide eyes, “Where did you get them?” 

“We _made_ them,” Says Tao proudly. “Cooking class was today.”

“I missed cooking class?” Chanyeol yells, mouth full of food. “Shit!”

“Like anyone would let you near knives.” Sehun mutters, and Tao curls into his side giggling. 

Chanyeol wiggles his eyebrows at him, and Sehun makes a cutting motion across his neck. 

Jongin remains as confused as always.

“Hey, who brought cake?” Asks Yixing as they sit down with their tray of food, staring at the plate full of small pink desserts, delicately topped with a swirl of cream and a halved strawberry. 

“We did!” Tao says, linking arms with Sehun once more. Yixing raises their eyebrow. Sehun looks away.

“You should probably go get food,” Chanyeol sprays a disgusted looking Jongin with more food, “I think they’re about to run out of chicken.”

Sehun groans as Tao grabs his hand again, dragging him towards the line leading towards the food filled Bain Marie. 

“What was that?” Jongin watches the pair from a distance, “I thought Sehun hated being touched?”

“Manic Tao loves touching,” Supplies Yixing, “and he’s very hard to shake off.”

“Has anyone seen Luhan?” Chanyeol asks suddenly, noticing the empty spot at their usual table, “I haven’t seen him all day.”

Yixing stares out the cafeteria door in the direction of Luhan’s room, concerned look on their face.

\------

There is nothing but darkness. A dreamless sleep, yet an active consciousness. 

Kris can hear people walking past his room, can hear when the nurses come in to check on him, can hear the chatter of patients from the cafeteria down the hall.

He supposes it must be dinner time, but Kris is enjoying the peace of an uninterrupted sleep, as strange as it may be, for the first time in what feels like forever.

Someone slides his curtains open a little, but there’s no flashlight to indicate a nurses’ presence. Kris has no idea who is in his room.

He sits up in his panic, there’s a dark figure on his side of the curtain. Kris swings his legs off the side of the bed, hand reaching for his cane to---

“Hey,” Comes the voice of his roommate. Kris recoils, he hasn’t heard Yixing’s voice so soft, caring. “You missed dinner, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I was just sleeping,” Kris replies, slowly. It’s weird, the entire conversation is weird. “Did I… uh… miss anything?”

“Mmm,” Yixing replies, making their way towards Kris and places their hands on his legs, spreading them. It gets weirder, but Kris cannot bring himself to pull away. “Sehun and Tao made cake in cooking class.” 

The same cooking class Kris had blatantly refused on attending. 

“But,” Breathes Yixing, moving to stand in between Kris’ legs. “I missed you.”

Kris can’t help himself; It’s the most action Kris’ had since he served, hooking up with a few of the service women while abroad. He runs his hand up the side of Yixing’s thigh, mostly revealed by those tiny _tiny_ jean shorts. The skin beneath his palm is deliciously soft, and Yixing’s breath hitches as his hand traces higher. Kris can close his eyes and pretend it’s a girl, God, Yixing is pretty enough; long hair and smooth thighs.

“You missed me?” Kris whispers into Yixing’s ear.

“Yeah.” They reply.

Kris isn’t sure who starts the kiss, but he’s definitely the first to groan. Yixing seems so needy, like they want him so _badly_ , climbing into his lap, and it’s such a turn on.

Yixing’s hands are in his hair, and they pull away from Kris quickly, attaching slick and puffy lips to the side of Kris’ neck; sucking and rocking back on the sudden bulge in Kris’ pyjama pants. 

“You’re so hot,” Yixing whispers in his ear, pushing their ass down onto Kris’ erection, before pushing their own up onto Kris’ stomach. “I love men like you, so masculine, so tall so---”

 

Kris awakes with a start.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, pausing to laugh at the irony of having a lucid dream while under the effects of an antipsychotic drug.

Kris feels the urge for nicotine slowly seeping back into his system, so he takes his box from the bedside table, along with his walking stick and heads outside to the smokers area, wincing slightly at the sound of voices. 

He doesn’t want to face Yixing. 

“Hey Kris!” Shouts Chanyeol as he stumbles through the courtyard “Sehun and Tao made cake, you should try one.”

Kris feels an overwhelming sense of Déjà vu. 

“I…” Kris starts, customary harsh words on his tongue “...sure, why not.”

Chanyeol shouts in glee while the others stare on in shock. 

He picks one from the plate, bringing it to his mouth and eating it quickly, ignoring what he assumes to be disbelief painted on the faces of the group.

“Wow,” Says Chanyeol, in awe, “Was it that good?”

It was pretty good, even though Kris has never been overly fond of sweets.

“I missed dinner.” He says quietly, shrugging.

“Have more!” Another one speaks up, he’s never bothered to learn anyone’s name, but in his head Kris refers to him as _The Loud One._ “See, Sehun, I told you that you’re good at baking!”

He clings to _The Grumpy One_ \- now Sehun - as Kris reaches for another.

Kris finishes the second cake a little slower, basking in the conversation a little. It feels nice, a vague sense of comradery. It’s similar to the Army, in some ways; a group of brothers going through the same thing, supporting each other. Kris allows his gaze to fall on all of them, smiling slightly at the antics of Tao and Chanyeol, and how Sehun tries not to get dragged in but still does. He looks at Yixing from the corner of his eye, how delicate his roommate is, yet so determined at the same time.

When Yixing stands abruptly, Kris finally allows himself to look properly. They seem mad, and they walk away from the group without a word.

As they leave, Kris notices their legs; without the haze of the dream, he can see the scars marring their legs, and realises they would never be smooth underneath his palms.

Some things are best left in dreams.


	6. Day Five: Amygdala.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Amygdala:**   
>  _The part of the limbic system that controls emotion, aggression, and the formation of emotional memory._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Todays T/W:** Scenes similar to a panic attack (Mixed Episode) Suicidal thoughts, non-descriptive mentions of attempted suicide. But 95% of this chapter is light hearted? This fic is a mess, honestly.
> 
> \------

"No.”

“No.”

“But Jongin--”

“Sehun--”

“I said no!” They cry at the same time, pulling the curtains shut. 

“I’m not having him as my nurse.” Kyungsoo stands to the side ashamedly, as Jongdae tries to reason with the distressed patient. 

“And I’m not having ECT.” Jongdae just sighs.

“I told Doctor Kim. I told both of the Doctor Kims that I didn’t want him as my nurse. Why doesn’t anyone listen to me?” Jongin wails.

“I’ll be your nurse today, alright Jongin? And Sehun, Kyungsoo will have to take you to your treatment. That’s why you’re here.” Jongdae soothes, but frowns deeply at Kyungsoo. 

“Come out after they leave, we can have a talk and grab you some medication, okay.” 

Sehun grumbles as Kyungsoo guides out the door. 

“I hate you.” he says. 

“I know.” Kyungsoo laughs softly.

“Jongin hates you too.” 

“... I know.” There’s no laughter this time, and Sehun feels kinda bad about it.

______

“Well who managed to make this spectacular fuck up?” Says Baekhyun as he wipes Jongin’s name from the whiteboard, removing it from Kyungsoo’s list of patients and assigning him to Jongdae instead.

“It wasn’t me.” Kyungsoo raises his hands in defense. “Junmyeon said that he should be the one to make contact first. I thought it was okay.”

“Obviously not,” drawls Jongdae from the door, lazily making his way over. “That was quite the reaction.”

He shoots a look to Kyungsoo. “Spill.”

“I can’t.” He replies. “Junmyeon’s orders.”

“If Junmyeon’s got orders on this situation, then it’s big. I can help”

Baekhyun scoffs. “You can help by making sure other nurses don’t put them together,” He says, a demanding tone in his voice. “Say they don’t get along or something.”

“I’d really like to know what ‘or something’ means.” Says Jongdae, giving a shaken Kyungsoo a once over.

“Look, just say there was a complaint and leave it at that.” Baekhyun replies tersely “You’re his nurse today, write it down in the reports.”

“Hey--” Kyungsoo starts, but Baekhyun shuts him off with a look.

“One complaint with a difficult patient is not going to look bad on your record.” Says Baekhyun pointedly.

“He’s difficult?” Asks Kyungsoo with surprise, and Jongdae looks on with fascination. 

“Doesn’t like taking meds, will only leave his room to smoke, won’t attend group therapy.” Jongdae ticks off on his fingers. “Difficult patient.”

“He smokes!?” Kyungsoo all but screeches. 

“Kyungsoo _shut up_!” Baekhyun hisses. 

“But yeah,” Jongdae says, “I’m in on your little scheme. But don’t think I wont ask again.”

With that, he collects the visuals board and leaves the staff room.

After a moment, Baekhyun turns to Kyungsoo.

“If I get fired, I’m taking your dick as compensation.”

Kyungsoo punches him in the spleen.

\------

“I think…” Mutters Tao from Sehun’s pillow, “I think I’m getting addicted to that knockout stuff.”

“Anesthetic.” Replies Sehun from the doorway, slouched in his wheelchair as Kyungsoo pushes him into the room. “And why are you in my room?”

“Mine’s too far.” Tao replies, snuggling into Sehun’s blankets.

“Baekhyun would have _literally_ wheeled you back to your room, Tao.” Kyungsoo deadpans, helping Sehun up and onto his bed, placing him into the only space not taken up by the other patient’s limbs.

“But my room doesn’t smell like Sehun,” He sighs, “It smells like old man.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Kyungsoo says, and he tries to get Tao out of bed. Sehun is too out of it to laugh at how funny the tiny nurse looks, trying to move someone the size of Tao using sheer force.

Right now, he just wants to sleep.

“Get out, Tao.” He says roughly. Vision swimming.

“But don’t you want to cuddle?” Tao asks, slightly hurt.

“No, I don’t want to fucking cuddle,” Sehun replies. “I want to sleep, wake up and maybe throw up a little, wash this fucking gunk from my forehead and then sleep some more.”

He pauses for breath. “Just get out.”

“Fine.” Tao replies curtly, and even in his disoriented state, Sehun feels a little guilty for being so harsh. But the need to sleep overwhelms his desire to interact with Tao, so he falls into bed, watching as Tao takes his place in the chair.

Kyungsoo wheels him out of sight, and Sehun wipes the gunk from his head with a grimace, wiping his hand on his pillow and falling into a deep sleep.

\------

 

Kris wakes up and he groans. Loudly.

“Shut the fuck up,” Says a voice from the other side of the curtain. “Some of us have had ECT this morning and aren’t capable of dealing with noise, assholes or assholes who make noise.”

Kris doesn’t dignify his roommate with a response. After shaking off the daze of the medication, Kris had remembered. How _shameful_ it was to have thought about Yixing that way. About how he had a dream about making out with a boy in a dress. 

How he still couldn’t get it out of his head; a needy, panting androgynous figure keeping him awake until the early hours of the morning. 

Still, he supposed, the company following his dream had been nice. 

He heads to the kitchen at the end of the hall, grabbing an extra strong black coffee from the machine, absentmindedly flicking his lighter as he waits for the cup to fill. One of the patients watches the flame glow and retract with worrying fascination and Kris is quick to extinguish the flame and replace the lighter in his pocket.

There’s a severe lack of people in the halls for 10am, Kris notes, but there is a flurry of nurses running around. Each armed with small, upright trolleys ladled equipment to measure blood pressure and heart rates.

For the first time since entering Theta, Kris was curious. Why all the commotion? Even his own nurse hadn’t woken him up for his morning medication, with Kris having to seek out a flustered Kyungsoo on his own.

“Sorry,” The nurse had said sheepishly “I’ve been a bit busy.”

And that had been that.

Kris pushes the door to the smoker’s courtyard open, surprised to see only Chanyeol, and _The Sad One_ sitting outside.

“Kris! My main man!” Chanyeol greets enthusiastically “Glad you could make it, Jongin and I were starting to feel a little lonely!”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” _The Sad One_ \- Jongin - replies, looking around. “Where is everyone today?”

“ECT day,” Says Chanyeol flippantly “Dunno about Luhan though, he hasn’t left his room much the last few days.”

Kris and Jongin look at each other, both equally confused.

“What’s ECT?” Jongin asks.

Chanyeol squints, looking left and right before leaning over the table, his voice hushed. “You’d know it more by its predecessor’s name.” Jongin leans forwards expectantly, while Chanyeol pauses for dramatic effect, “ _Shock Therapy._ ” 

“They still _do that_!?” Jongin whispers, terrified, “I thought that was illegal… or at least immoral?”

Kris rolls his eyes.

“Yes, it’s safe and humane now.” Chanyeol sits up laughing. “It’s all carefully monitored, consensual and all that.” He waves his hand flippantly. “Ask one of the others about it sometime.”

“Do you know what all the commotion is about,” Kris asks Chanyeol, “There’s nurses everywhere.”

Before he can answer, the door as it slams open, and three heads turn to the noise in surprise. Sehun walks out into the courtyard, trailed by a disgruntled-looking Kyungsoo. Jongin stands up and bids a hasty exit, no one noticing his absence in the commotion.

“Sehun come back you need to---” Kyungsoo starts, worriedly.

“I need to smoke, then you can check my blood pressure again.” Sehun waves his hand, flippantly, sitting down on the bench and pulling the box of smokes from his pocket.

“But---” 

“Kyungsoo, I feel like shit. But if the anesthetic was really contaminated, then I think I’d be feeling a bit worse than I already do.”

“I need to see you every half hour, though.” Kyungsoo states plainly. 

“I can finish this in five minutes.” 

“Fine. Five minutes. Then I take your blood pressure.” Kyungsoo walks back inside swiftly.

Sehun turns to Kris and Chanyeol. “You know, I might make it ten minutes.” He laughs around the end of his cigarette, “Just to fuck with him a little.”

Kris finds himself laughing for the first time in months.

\------

“They did _what_ to my _what_!?” Tao screeches, staring at Baekhyun with an affronted expression. 

“Calm down, Tao,” His nurse replies calmly, “There is only a slight chance that the batch of anesthetic we used today was contaminated, the company only called it back as a precaution.”

Tao groans, letting his head sink back into his own (old man scented) pillow. “Today is the worst.” He drags out the ‘o’ sound, whining softly.

“I know you want to sleep off the effects of ECT, but I just need to check you’re alright.” Baekhyun says, unhooking the equipment, and adjusting it to fit Tao.

“Hey Baekhyun,” Tao starts softly, watching as the nurse notes down the numbers on the equipment screen, “Would you ever cuddle with me?”

The nurse doesn’t even look up before replying “You’re a patient, Tao. I can’t cuddle with you.”

“But like, I meant if we knew each other outside of hospital.”

“No.” Baekhyun plainly states, finally looking at Tao. He notices how hurt his patient looks. “But then again, I don’t really like cuddles.”

He doesn’t speak as Baekhyun finishes his checks, helping to ease him back into bed.

“Get some rest, okay?” He says “I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

He doesn’t rest, mind still on Sehun’s earlier words. He hasn’t been able to rest well since he was rejected so painfully that morning. 

He thinks about Sehun, how _ideal_ he is. Honestly, Sehun is everything Tao’s ever wanted in a boyfriend, apart from the hair, but he can fix that. 

Sehun makes him laugh, can hold his own against Tao as they banter, _he’s gorgeous_. Most of all, he will never judge him for his issues, because Sehun knows exactly how he feels.

Tao buries his face into his pillow once more, groaning. He’s known the guy for less than a week and he’s already in way too deep, when it’s obvious Sehun probably won’t even fall at all.

\-------

“You’re not gonna Hulk Out on me or anything are you?”

“Jongin shut up.”

“Want me to tell you if you start glowing green?”

“Jongin---”

“But like, if web-like stuff oozes out through your puncture wound, I can totally get my sister to make you a Spiderman costum---”

“Jongin, I said _shut up_.” Sehun flops onto his bed, face down and exasperated. “The only gross substance on me at the moment is the ECT goo.” 

Rolling over with a groan, he reaches for a towel, groans more as he goes through his closet for clothes, groaning more as he makes his way towards the showe---

“I get it, you’re sore.” Jongin laughs. “Enjoy your shower!” He sing songs, receiving only a grunt in response.

The water runs and Jongin almost jumps in shock as the phone on his bedside table vibrates.

It’s a message from Taemin. He took a photo of Jongin’s dogs, along with the caption:

_Your babies miss you._

Jongin goes to reply, but another message comes through first.

This time, it’s a picture of his family, as well as Taemin. There’s another caption:

_We miss you too._

He types out a reply, saying that he misses everyone, and that they should visit soon.

Jongin is still grinning like an idiot, even when Sehun’s slipper hits him in the face.

“You’re smiling and it looks gross. Go back to being depressed.” He says, toweling his hair dry.

“Aren’t my kids cute?” Jongin replies, pulling out his phone and showing him the picture.

“I hate dogs.” Sehun deadpans, placing his dirty clothes into a plastic bag.

“But mine are so cute!” Jongin pouts. Sehun ignores him, idly wondering why so many goddamn patients find the need to pout.

“Why don’t you shower, and I’ll ponder my life and my choices involving not liking dogs.”

Jongin pouts again, but makes his way over to the bathroom regardless. “This isn’t over.” He says closing the door.

Sehun drags his hands up across his face, pressing slightly into his eyes, against his throbbing temples in an attempt to ease the pressure. Finally he runs his hands through his hair.

He can’t stop thinking about Tao, about how horrible he was that morning, and how cuddles might have been nice.

Sehun is so lonely, he doesn’t really want to suffer by himself.

Not anymore. 

\-------

Luhan knows what’s coming.

He’s been depressed too long, the transition through to mania just isn’t showing. His mood hasn’t shifted but his thoughts are racing, like bees in his head, thoughts spiraling round and round, trying to spill through his mouth as if it were water through a drain.

These are not pleasant thoughts, the ones in his head. They are destructive, they are angry, and they are aimed right at Luhan’s weak points.

Then again, he muses, when have Mixed Episodes ever been fun? The overlap between mania and depression, a rush of emotions and uncontrollable thoughts.

Words can never hurt you; they tell you. But they’re lying. Words hurt, but the words in your head hurt most of all; collateral damage in a war of the mind.

Luhan screams, clutching at his head, he throws himself through the curtains surrounding his bed, tearing them off the rungs as he slams himself into the wall. He paces around the room, occasionally smashing things, flinging his body into doors, the windows.

He sobs uncontrollably, collapsing to the floor and raking his nails through carpet, trying to grasp at sanity but breaking his nails instead; harshly, painfully, he barely notices the blood on some of his fingertips.

The spiral of thoughts run faster and faster, everything racing, pushing to the front and trying to be heard.

They are not nice thoughts, the ones in Luhan’s head.

Each new one is telling him just how he should die.

\------

“Yixing, if you could stop being hot for like, one second, that would be cool.” Chanyeol says eyeing them as they walk through the door. Late evening had set in, and Yixing had changed to deal the the change in temperature. Their long flowing skirt from earlier still swished around their ankles as they walked, but the black sweater and beanie were new additions.

“I’ll try, Daddy.” They say sweetly, ignoring how everyone chokes as Yixing innocently pulls out their tobacco.

“Daddy?” Tao coughs, mid inhale, smoke spewing from his mouth and nose. Jongin rubs his back soothingly whilst looking between Chanyeol and Yixing with curiosity.

Yixing holds a finger up, pausing to inhale a deep lung full of smoke, and blowing it out through their nose. “Personal joke.”

“Why does everyone want to bone Yixing so badly?” Sehun groans, burying his face in his hands. Kris moves his hands down so the embers don’t make contact with Sehun’s hair, distracting himself so that no one will notice his guilt.

“I thought you weren’t into dicks” Tao says to Chanyeol, pointedly.

“I don’t have to be into dicks to be into Yixing.” He nods sagely. “Plus, Luhan’s not into dicks either, but he was super into Yixing for a while.”

Tao coughs again, wheezing out an _Oh my God_ as Jongin rubs his back once more. Yixing shrugs.

“He was drunk, manic and wanted to make out.” They casually inform the group. “You know, for a straight guy he gives awfully good head.”

“This is a Seroquel induced nightmare and I’m going to wake up not knowing about Luhan’s blowjob techniques.” Tao mutters.

Kris feels an awful pang in his chest.

“You’re gay as hell and you would resist a lap full of horny Luhan?” Chanyeol asks in disbelief, “You are a disgrace to your family, your country and to your sexuality.”

“Horny Luhan is hell to deal with,” Sehun says quietly, “It’s like, he knows all your weak spots and goes straight for them.” 

“You too?” Screeches Tao, shock outweighing the jealousy. 

“No, I managed to get him off me, but not before there was a massive hickey under my ear.” He pauses to look at Yixing briefly. “But had I known that he’s more Heteroflexible than he lets on, I probably would have gone for it.”

“Why do none of the hot guys want to suck my dick?” Tao bemoans, and this time it’s Kris rubbing Jongin’s back as he coughs out smoke. “Even my apprentice has a boyfriend, and he’s a little shit.” 

“If it’s any consolation,” Jongin rasps out, “I haven’t had a boyfriend in four years.”

“You’re all gay as hell and you’re all fucking?” Kris addresses the group as a whole for the first time, “I’m confused, but that’s what I’m taking away from this conversation.”

“I’m straight.” Says Chanyeol, “I have a girlfriend on the outside. I met her here, actually.”

“I don’t care.” Sehun replies, “People call it Pansexuality? But I don’t give a fuck about their gender if they’re hot enough.”

“But you’ve had at least one dick up your ass.” Jongin supplies cheekily.

Sehun shoots a pointed look at Jongin. “I have enough dirt on you to make this very uncomfortable, so don’t push me.” 

“And I’m Androsexual.” Says Yixing, “Meaning I don’t label myself with gender, but I like men.”

They shoot a pointed look at Kris, who squirms uncomfortably. “Though I suppose _you_ would call me gay.”

Tao breaks the uncomfortable silence, turning to Yixing.“You’ve never told me your type, you know.” He says, “I’m guessing boys like Luhan?”

Yixing hums around the filter in their mouth, rolling another smoke. “I guess? I usually go for taller guys, I don’t mind a bit of muscle. A handsome face doesn’t hurt either.”

Kris is tall. Kris has muscle leftover from his service. Kris is handsom--

“Like me!” Chanyeol shouts enthusiastically. “I’m totally your type.”

Kris isn’t into Yixing at all.

Yixing laughs. “Whatever you say, Daddy.”

\------

An alarm blares through the hospital in the dead of night. Chanyeol’s roommate groans, still disorientated by sleeping medication, and goes back to sleep.

Chanyeol can’t ignore this alarm, he’s heard it a few times during his stays and it always sends a chill through him, one that settles right into his bones.

He’s never been that depressed; sure he’s had his bouts with it, but it was mild, and he always comes through in the end.

Not once, in Chanyeol’s twenty six years of existence, has Chanyeol contemplated suicide.

He’s met suicidal patients, hell, most of his entire friend group has had made at least one attempt on their life, but this siren is a different story. 

Someone has either tried, or succeeded in killing themselves tonight, and Chanyeol’s heart breaks at the thought. The person is here to get better, and they haven’t. It’s no fault of the staff, of anyone, really. The person the alarm sings its mournful tune for has merely believed that the only way out is death.

Hurried footsteps echo down the hallway, nurses rushing and shouting as they pass by. All Chanyeol can hear is a garbled mess of words, but he can clearly hear one thing amongst the chaos.

_Room Twelve._

Chanyeol bolts upright.

_Luhan._

He fears the worst.


	7. Day Six: Anticipatory Coping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Anticipatory Coping:**   
>  _Efforts made in advance of a potentially stressful event to overcome, reduce, or tolerate the imbalance between perceived demands and available resources._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today’s T/W:** Mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of self-harm scars.

Chanyeol couldn’t sleep at all. He tried to go check on Luhan but to no avail, and the night nurses made sure he couldn’t watch as the patient was wheeled to the ambulance on a stretcher.

He was so anxious, he kept denying sleeping medication, which he knew for a fact would be written on his chart, and that Junmyeon would surely reprimand him for it.

“Where’s Luhan.” Yixing races into the courtyard, eyes widening upon seeing a tired and morose looking Chanyeol. “Oh God.”

They slump into the seat next to him, wrapping their arms around his waist, beginning to cry softly into his shoulder.

“I heard the nurses last night,” and Chanyeol breaks down, sobbing into Yixing’s hair. “It was his room.”

Sehun and Tao enter the courtyard together, Sehun’s arm around Tao’s waist. They both have drying tears on their face, and upon seeing Yixing and Chanyeol crying together, Tao breaks down once more, sinking to the ground and muffling his sobs into Sehun’s thigh, soaking the denim of his jeans with tears.

“Hey what was with that alarm last nigh---” Jongin starts, looking around the group and stopping mid sentence. “Wow, who died?”

“Luhan, probably.” Yixing says into Chanyeol’s neck.

“Oh my God, I didn’t mean to---” 

“Just, go.” Says Sehun abruptly. “There’s a smoking area at the front of the hospital. Best you stay there for today.”

“I honestly didn’t mean---” 

Tao stands shakily and puts his hand on Jongin’s shoulder. “Normally we’d laugh. But we’re not doing too good at the moment.” Tao’s still crying, yet despite everything, he was going out of his way to comfort him.

Jongin is overwhelmed by guilt.

“Let me know if you need anything.” No one responds as he walks back through the door.

Sehun wraps an arm around a shaking Tao, bringing him over to the bench. Tao continues to cling, so he lights up a cigarette from his pack, hand shaking as he tries to ignite the end, lighter clicking and flame fading before he can burn the tip.

Unwrapping himself from Tao, he cups his hand around the flame, allowing the stick to ignite. Sehun inhales the initial burn, and exhales on a shaky breath. The smoke doesn’t come up as smooth as it usually does, but the calming effect is almost instantaneous as nicotine buzzes through his system.

He feels Tao gripping to the front of his shirt, sobbing hard, he hears Yixing in the background, hiccupping into Chanyeol’s neck. He turns to see Chanyeol clinging tightly Yixing, crying into their hair.

Sehun sighs, balancing his cigarette on the table, lighting up one, two sticks, before standing up and offering them to Chanyeol and Yixing, free hand stroking down Yixing’s back comfortingly. 

He turns back to his seat and Tao has propped himself up, staring blankly into the hedge with tears flowing down his face. Sehun raises a finger to wipe away a tear, only for another to take its place. His finger follows the trail down Tao’s cheek, before he changes direction, dragging across his lip. Sehun pulls it down slightly before taking the last cigarette from his box and places it between Tao’s lips.

He lights the flame wordlessly.

The entire courtyard was wordless, no chatter, only inhales and shaking sobs.

“I saw him, you know,” Tao says on an exhale. “When they wheeled him out.”

“There was no sheet?” Yixing asks, wiping away their tears with the hem of their sleeve, “When someone’s died they’ve got a sheet over their head.”

“That means he’s not dead.” Chanyeol says, smiling a little. 

“But we can’t really trust to hope,” Sehun says, dampening the mood. “There’s always potential damage - like organ failure--, depending on the method. We still don’t know what he tried to do.”

“Jesus Luhan.” Breathes Yixing.

“I’m gonna punch him the dick next time I see him.” Says Chanyeol. Everyone nods quietly, before slumping together again, emotionally drained.

\-------

“Nope you are coming with me,” Jongin grabs Kris’ arm as he walks past, “There’s some hardcore shit going on out there, and I fucked up majorly.”

Kris raises his eyebrow questioningly. “And why am I being dragged into your fuck up?”

“Because if I fucked up majorly, then you’d fuck up royally.” Jongin says, dragging Kris towards the nurses’ staff room.

“Ow, Jongin my knee---” Jongin knocks on the staff room door before Kris can finish his sentence.

“Coming,” Someone replies from inside, moments before Kyungsoo opens the door. “What can I do for yo--- Jongin?” 

“Um. There’s another courtyard for smoking? Where can I find it?” He asks uncomfortably.

“I can show you if you like?” Kyungsoo replies.

“I… fine.” Jongin can feel Kris looking at him, knows he’s more likely to ask questions if he refuses help from a nurse.

They follow Kyungsoo through the twisted halls, down a flight of stairs and into a fenced off area. It was still full of flowers and neatly trimmed hedges, and Jongin idly wonders who does the gardening. 

“You really shouldn’t be smoking, Jongin.” Kyungsoo says quietly as he walks through the door. “I’m worried about you.”

Jongin throws his head back and lets out an exasperated groan once he’s out of earshot, sinking into the bench beside him with another one.

“Who is he, my mother?” He says to a very confused looking Kris. 

Jongin pulls out a his cigarettes, putting one between his teeth while searching for his lighter. “ _He’s_ the one who broke up with _me_. Not the other way around.”

He lights the stick in his mouth, tilting his head back and exhaling the smoke into the morning air. “And another thing,” He says to a shell-shocked Kris, “What’s a History Major doing working in a psych ward, I thought he wanted to become a history teacher, nurture children and all that. Not babysit nut-cases.”

Kris just stares on wordlessly as Jongin continues to rant. “A guy takes your virginity and thinks he can judge all your life choices from then on. Fucking ridiculous.”

“I… wow.” Says Kris, slowly. “Like, I knew something was up but I didn’t want to… wow.”

“I’m sorry, that was too much information.” Jongin replies.”Now you’ve got dirt on me.”

“In the army,” Kris starts, looking at Jongin seriously, ”We have a thing for brotherhood. We support each other.”

“I’m not too sure where you’re going with this,” Jongin says slowly, “But if you’re asking me to take your virginity I’m not sure I’m up for that.”

“Look, what I’m saying is that we stick with each other and never judge---” He trails off, staring at Jongin intently.

“Wait, you’re saying I’m not attractive to men?” Kris looks around before he says anything further, “Or uh… people who are attracted to men?”

Jongin blinks slowly, taking in the information. “Oh God, you want in Yixing’s pants.”

“Yes, no, maybe?” Kris runs his hands through his hair. “I had a really detailed Seroquel dream about him?”

“Them.” Jongin corrects. “If you want Yixing to come anywhere near your dick then I’m pretty sure correct pronouns is a must.”

“Right, them.” Kris clears his throat. “Anyway, it was really hot and I may or may not want it to happen in real life.”

“Jesus,” Breathes Jongin, “Everyone _does_ want to bone Yixing.”

\------

The group outside part their separate ways; Chanyeol to sleep, Yixing to find medication. Sehun pulls Tao aside as the others leave, fingers trailing down his arm.

“I know you like to cuddle,” He says, “So we can cuddle if you want.” 

“I’d like that.” Tao replies with a sad smile, taking Sehun by the hand and leading him through the corridor. 

Sehun doesn’t know where his spontaneous affection has come from, normally he shies away from human contact, with hand holding and cuddles being at the bottom of his to-do list.

He doesn’t even stick around for post-sex cuddles. 

But Tao, he’s a little different. Sehun understands Tao a little better than most people. They’ve been through the same amount of hardships; if the marks on Tao’s wrists are anything to go by. He’s not so sure the others have noticed, but Sehun’s seen the scars on his arms. Each the same length, same width apart. Some pinker, more raised, _fresher_.

Sehun’s willing to bet there’s similar marks on his thighs, too.

“I don’t know if this is too much to ask, but can we like… hug-cuddle?” Tao asks as they step into his room.

He’s a little confused, but agrees none the less. 

Lying on Tao’s bed, he’s surprised when the other patient joins him, fronts pressed together. Tao wiggles around, adjusting Sehun’s body; placing his arm behind Tao’s head, with their thighs tangled beneath the covers. Tao rests his head against Sehun’s chest, and he faintly breathes in the scent of his hair. 

It smells wonderful.

Of course it does, Sehun muses. Tao is a hairdresser, it’s probably a foreign brand, worth more than Sehun’s entire outfit. 

It should be awkward, the position, the situation, everything. But it’s not. It’s comforting, and for once, Sehun isn’t suffering on his own.

He places a kiss onto the crown of Tao’s head, letting his cheek rest on the soft strands. 

Sehun knows he’ll appreciate the gesture. 

After all, Sehun knows Tao better than most people.

\------

Luhan wakes up to a bright light, eyelids flickering open as he tries to ease the buzzing in his head.

He can hear beeps, he can feel the Cannula in his arm, the plastic moving uncomfortably under his skin as he shifts. The skin of his neck aches, throbs, almost if someone has wrapped their hands around his neck and choked him into unconsciousness.

He vaguely wonders if that’s what happened.

It’s not, and in a flash Luhan remembers; plaiting the shredded mess of his curtains into a makeshift rope, jumping from the bed, the absence of air, the darkness.

His eyes shoot open.

“Oh thank God you’re awake, I was so worried.” His mother is at his side immediately, hugging him into her chest. 

“Ow, ma, the Cannula.” He winces slightly. Luhan’s never been fond of the feeling of things underneath his skin.

“You’ll kill me one day.” She says, helping him sit back down. His father looks on from the corner, arms crossed and frowning. Luhan can still see the tears on his cheeks. “Every time you do this, my heart gets weaker.”

It’s not the first attempt Luhan’s made on his life, and every time he wakes up in a hospital room with concerned parents, who love him no matter what he does to them. “I’m sorry. You know how I get.” 

She nods in affirmation, eyes watering. Luhan’s mother is a psychiatric nurse, and he’s willing to bet that he’s lying in a bed in her ward. She deals with patients like him every day. 

“You can’t stay here,” She says with a pained smile. “Once I go back on shift it will turn into a conflict of interest.”

Luhan’s mother presses the call button for the nurse, leaning over to hug him once more.

His father joins in, his tears wetting the pillow beside Luhan’s face.

“I love you.” Luhan whispers to his parents. 

They reply between muffled sobs.

\--------

Kris looks around the cafeteria questioningly. 

“Hey, where are the others?” He asks Jongin. “It’s not like Chanyeol to miss lunch.”

Jongin pauses mid chew, quickly finishing the food before swallowing. “Oh God I fucked things up majorly. _Again._ ”

“What happened this time?”

“Did you hear the alarm last night?” Jongin asks quietly, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation.

“No, I was on too many sleep meds.” Kris replies.

“Yeah well, there was this alarm. And apparently it only goes off when someone kills themself? Or tries to? ” Jongin drops his head into his hands, “And this morning the others were crying and I was like ‘who died’ and Yixing was like ‘Luhan, probably’ and yeah, I’m a major asshole.”

Jongin slumps down onto the table “Kyungsoo was right. I _am_ selfish.”

“Please don’t rant to me about Kyungsoo again.” Kris asks, voice strained, “I’m still not over the fact that he took your virginity.”

Jongin ignores him. Kris coughs, “If it’s any consolation, I have no idea who Luhan is.”

“Yixing’s friend.”Jongin says, right cheek pressing against the table and jumbling his words.

“I’m finished,” Kris stands abruptly, “I’ll see you around.” 

He races down the hallway and into his room; the curtains around Yixing’s bed are open, they’re staring unblinkingly into the corner.

“Would it kill you to stop staring at me?” They ask.

“I’m not staring at you.” Kris asks, “I’m just wondering if you’re okay.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Yixing replies. “I was talking to him.” 

They’re gesturing to the empty corner beside their bed.

“He’s smiling at you though. I think he likes you.” They say, turning their head towards Kris. “I can never trust the people he likes.”

Kris stands frozen, shocked. “Who are you talking about?”

“The kid from my psychosis.” Yixing goes back to staring at the walls. “There’s two unwelcome people here, Kris. And you’re the only one who can leave.” 

“I’ll go then.” Kris mutters, and he backtraces out the hallway; sitting himself in the empty courtyard with a cigarette between his lips.

He pulls his phone out, and into the search bar he types ‘psychosis’.

\------

Something is poking Chanyeol’s stomach. Something very annoying. Something whispering his name.

Something that is now shaking his leg.

“Chanyeol, get up!” The something hisses, and Chanyeol opens a sleepy eye to see a nervous looking Baekhyun crouched beside his bed; the nurse looking left and right worridly.

“I have a very important message about a very important someone and you need to wake up!” Baekhyun shakes at Chanyeol’s shoulder this time, and far rougher than his previous attempts. 

“ _Luhan_.” Chanyeol breathes, and this time he’s the one doing the shaking. He grabs the nurse by the shoulders rocking him back and forth, “Tell me everything you know.”

“He’s alive. He’s safe. He’s at _Our Ladies_ and he’ll be back once the doctors finish their checks on him, so sometime tomorrow?” 

“Oh thank God,” Chanyeol exhales, dropping back onto his bed. “That is the biggest relief ever, you are an angel sent from heaven.”

“I’m risking my job to tell you this, Chanyeol.” Baekhyun states plainly, “When you tell the others, it wasn’t me who told you. Yixing’s in contact with Luhan’s parents or something.”

Baekhyun pauses, tensing as footsteps approach Chanyeol’s room, visibly relaxing as they fade down the hallway. “I have to go, but spread the word.”

“I love you!” Chanyeol yells out, and he can hear Baekhyun laugh down the corridor. 

He scrambles to get up, not even bothering to put on socks as he scampers his way into Yixing’s room across the hallway. 

“Yixing, my pal, I come bearing wonderous news!” He all but sings from the door. 

“What.” They ask, still staring at the wall.

“Luhan’s alive.” Chanyeol says. 

Yixing scrambles from the bed, clutching him by the collar of his shirt. “Tell me everything.”

“He’s at _Our Ladies_ , he’ll be back tomorrow.” Chanyeol grins at the pure joy he sees displayed on Yixing’s face “Though, I don’t know why they aren’t keeping him there. _Our Ladies, The Saints_ has a huge Psych Ward.”

“His mum works there,” Yixing says as they hurriedly pull on a cardigan. “Psych ward nurse. Conflict of interest.”

“Ahh,” Chanyeol hums in understanding. “Let’s go spread the good news!”

He links his arms through Yixing’s, escorting them out into the hallway. “You. Stay there.” They say into the corner, and the two all but skip down the halls, overjoyed and worry free. 

“I can guarantee that Tao somehow got Sehun to cuddle him.” Says Chanyeol as they skip, “So let’s head there first.” 

They laugh with unbridled joy as they travel through the halls; several patients stop and stare, and the nurses look on knowingly. It’s no secret that both Chanyeol and Yixing are close to Luhan, so their uplifted spirits would undoubtedly be because they heard the good news.

Chanyeol pounces on Tao and Sehun as they sleep, bouncing on the end of the bed. “He’s alive! C’mon lovebirds wake up, Luhan’s alive.”

Sehun is the first to wake. “What,” He replies groggily, pulling his arm out from under Tao’s head, “How do you know?”

“A tiny, tiny, Baekhyun-shaped bird told me.” Chanyeol grins.

Sehun can feel Tao sobbing into his shirt, wetting the fabric. “I’m so happy.” He wails, before beginning to laugh through his tears.

“If you could be happy a little quieter, that would be nice.” Comes the voice of Tao’s roommate, an elderly man who spends most of his day sleeping.

They all laugh, and he groans again.

“C’mon,” Says Yixing, tears starting to form again. “Let’s go.”

\------

Kyungsoo enters the staff room, shooting an accusing look to Baekhyun as he sits down at the table.

“A little birdy told some of our patients about Luhan’s condition.” He says. Baekhyun refuses to look at him, stirring sugar into his coffee.

“Yixing and Luhan are close. Maybe his mother spread the word.?”

“Bullshit.” Kyungsoo says. “I know it was you.”

They’re alone in the room and Baekhyun sighs. “So what if it was? They were wrecked with grief. I couldn’t let them suffer.”

“That’s a violation of conduct, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo says sternly. “You know that.”

“And what, being your ex-boyfriend’s nurse isn’t?” 

“That was a low blow, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo says sadly. “Plus, it’s a completely different situation.”

“It’s not and you know it.” Baekhyun replies angrily. “Had it been anyone else from your past, anyone else you even vaguely knew, then you would have told Junmyeon about it immediately.”

“I---” 

“Don’t start, Kyungsoo.” Baekhyun runs his hand through his hair. “I know Jongin is the reason why you became a psych nurse, because you wanted to help people like him because you weren’t able to help him when he needed you.”

Kyungsoo winces.

Baekhyun stands, finishing his coffee. “Now, you think you have the opportunity to help him,” He disposes of his cup, staring at Kyungsoo all the while. “But why do you want to? Is it because you _truly_ want him to get better, or because you need to ease your own guilt?”

He exits the room, leaving a crying Kyungsoo in his wake.


	8. Day Seven: La Douleur Exquise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **La Douleur Exquise:** _  
> (French) The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today’s T/W:** Discussion of PTSD, Internalized homophobia, homophobic slurs.
> 
> \------

_There is nothing more in this world  
That I could dream of seeing  
Than for you to feel  
As happy as you used to be  
It is my greatest wish  
When in your dark hours  
Think of me  
And my gifted flowers_

Jongin snorts. He never knew Taemin was into poetry. 

He pulls out his phone, sending a short message to Taemin.

_Thanks for the flowers, you sappy asshole._

Still, it’s a beautiful arrangement; large red flowers forming the centrepiece, with smaller white and pink blossoms nestled in between. Their yellow pollen adds an extra splash of colour, with delicate greenery tying it all together.

It’s vivid and full of life, making the already drooping petals of the previous flowers look even more dull and lifeless.

“Someone’s popular.” Says Chanyeol from the doorway. Jongin was too enraptured by the flowers that he hadn’t even heard the other patient enter his room.

Overjoyed at the news of Luhan’s survival, the others had pulled Jongin into their celebration; setting up camp in his and Sehun’s room with Chanyeol procuring snacks out of seemingly nowhere. 

Their conversations and laughter had lasted until late at night, a group of flustered night staff coming in to shoo everyone out.

Jongin was seemingly forgiven for his earlier words. In all honesty, it was a huge relief.

“Come smoke with me.” Demands Chanyeol. “Everyone else either at ECT or sleeping and I’m lonely.”

He pouts unattractively at Jongin.

“I thought you couldn’t be lonely,” Jongin says, pulling on a ratty sweater, “You know, with all the voices.”

“The voices are terrible company.” Chanyeol grins. “You’re much better.”

Jongin sighs, picking up his pack and frowning how empty it felt.

“I probably can’t be out there long,” He says, following Chanyeol through the halls, “I’ve only got one left.”

“I’ve got a few spare packs lying around,” Chanyeol waves his hand flippantly, “I’ll give you one until you can get some more in.”

They make a pit-stop at the kitchen, Chanyeol teaching Jongin how to make the famous _Hot Chanyeol_. Jongin sips at the warm liquid quietly as they make their way into the empty courtyard, cold morning air biting through the layers of clothes.

“You’re not too talkative today, whats up?” Asks Chanyeol as he lights up.

“I just… depression I guess?” Jongin replies softly, “The only reason I’m out of bed is because Sunny dragged me on the morning walk.”

Chanyeol shudders.“I hate it when she does that. _Exercise is good for endorphins!_ ” He mimics the nurses’ cheery tone, eliciting a quiet chuckle from Jongin.

“I’m guessing it didn’t really work.” He asks softly, looking at Jongin with a concerned expression. 

“Not really.” Jongin exhales smoke before continuing, “I saw the outside world, but I was under supervision. It’s not the same.”

“You really don’t seem alright,” Chanyeol says, taking in Jongin’s expression, his body language. “Do you want me to get your nurse?”

“She has other patients to deal with.” Jongin says, monotone.

“It’s her job to help you.” Chanyeol points out. “She’s a psych nurse.”

“There’s more than one psych nurse here incapable of helping me.” He replies, tiredly. 

Jongin stands up, putting out his cigarette.

“I’m gonna go back to bed.” He says, offering a tired salute by way of goodbye. “See you later.”

Chanyeol watches him leave with a frown.

\------

“Woah, hey now.” Kris rushes to support Yixing as their knees buckle, attempting to stand but failing miserably.

Kris guides them back into bed, pulling the blankets up over their shoulders. Yixing, in their disorientated state, doesn’t notice the gentle touch brushing the hair from their forehead.

“You look like shit.” Kris states plainly.

“ECT is getting to me,” Replies Yixing sleepily. “I was trying to get water and crackers to ease the nausea.”

“I can get them for you.” Kris says, “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re being nice.” Yixing mumbles, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I’m from the Army. We’d do anything to help the people we serve with.” 

“Oh, so I’m your comrade now, am I?” Yixing’s speech is slurred, their ECT session only recent.

“We’re going through the same thing.” Kris replies softly. “Hospital brotherhood.”

“Don’t think for a second that I’m anything like you.” Their eyes droop, “And I’m no one’s brother.”

Kris runs as hand through his hair, frustrated. He watches as Yixing falls asleep.

\------

“Tao this is breaching the subtle-flirting-yet-no-homo terms of our friendship.” Chanyeol says as a tired-looking Tao loops his arms around his shoulders, straddling him on the bench.

“Sehun is throwing up and I want to cuddle.” Tao replies, chin resting on his shoulder. 

“This isn’t really a cuddle.” Chanyeol replies frantically, “It’s more of a prelude to a makeout session.”

“This is a no homo straddle.” Says Tao. “And I will not be moved until my cuddling requirements are met.”

Chanyeol resigns himself to his fate, wrapping his arms around Tao’s midsection.  
Kris raises an eyebrow at the two when he enters the courtyard, coffee in hand.

“I’m not going to ask.” He says, placing the cup down on the table.

“Post-ECT Tao is capable of only complaining and cuddling.” Chanyeol offers the explanation regardless. “I am today’s victim.”

“I’ve already dealt with post-ECT Yixing today.” Kris says lightly.

“How is Yixing?” Tao asks, turning his head to look at Kris. 

“Um. Grumpy. Tired? Very sick.” Kris mumbles from around the butt of his cigarette, “Threw out some choice insults before going back to sleep.”

“You haven’t really made the best impression, honestly.” Says Chanyeol. 

“I know.” He says. “But I’m trying to fix that.”

\------

Kyungsoo stares at Jongin while he sleeps, barely repressing the urge to run his hands through the now dark hair. 

It’s the same colour it was back when they met so many years ago, dark black that glows with brown tones under the light streaming through the window.

He’d hoped -- somewhat foolishly -- that if he was to meet with Jongin again, that he’d still have silver hair; Kyungsoo had kept his red locks in memory of him, still clinging to the idea that Jongin still loved him.

But had Jongin ever loved him in the first place? 

Kyungsoo never questioned his feelings for Jongin. Not then, not now. He has always been so incredibly in love with the man he sees before him, and not even a four year separation could dull his emotions.

Not since the breakup had he muttered those words to another, and there were many who came after him. Men that came in and out of his life quickly, upset at his unwillingness to commit, his refusal to answer to declarations of love. 

There were so many men, but none of them were Jongin.

 _“I don’t know what love is.”_ He’d tell them, and he’d understand the pain, remembering how it felt when those words were once thrown at him.

But he was still too hung up over Jongin, too guilt wrecked and in love.

And so they left; one by one.

Until Kyungsoo was alone.

\------

“Kris, I see you’ve made friends.” Says Minseok from the door, holding Kris’ file under his arm.

“Yep!” Shouts Chanyeol and Tao, still seated in his lap, winces in pain. “We’re pals now.”

“I’m going to need to take your _pal_ here off to an appointment,” He says, smiling. “Is that okay?”

“Do you promise to return him in one piece?” He tries to stare at the psychologist menacingly, but it fails miserably.

“I promise.” Minseok laughs good naturedly, before turning to Kris, “Come along now, I’m on a tight schedule.”

For a small man, Minseok moves with a determined swiftness. Kris is unable to keep the pace, hindered by his injury, limping quickly behind the doctor as they make their way towards an unoccupied consultation room.

“So,” Minseok says, lowering himself into his office chair, motioning Kris to do the same. “How have you been?” 

“Up and down,” Kris replies, staring at the artwork on the walls, “I’m alright during the day, but at night it’s really bad.”

Minseok hums. “Nightmares?” 

“Yeah. Sleeping meds are helping a bit, but sometimes they don’t work.” Kris remembers with a shudder his dreams from the previous night; of helicopters and gunshots and blood. He swallows thickly.

“And how are you feeling today?” Minseok prompts, leaning forward. 

“Terrible.” Kris says, monotone. “I hate this.”

“You seem more accepting of your condition this time around. What changed your mind?”

“Other people in here have it worse.” Kris says, thinking of Yixing. How they looked so weak, so ill. How his research into psychosis opened his eyes into a new world of torment. 

“Other people’s problems don’t make yours any less valid.” Says Minseok softly. 

“Other people deal with more than I do.” Kris rubs at his face tiredly. “What I have isn’t a disease, it’s a character flaw.”

“You have symptoms, you have a diagnosis.” Minseok replies gently, “In fact you’re displaying symptoms right now.”

“Really now,” Kris replies, snarking. “Do tell.” 

“Guilt. Avoidance. Self-loathing.” Minseok ticks them off his fingers as he talks. “You’re closed off, you won’t acknowledge your issues, and you won’t let anyone help.”

He stares at Kris, and for the first time his sweet demeanour is gone; replaced by the hard look of a seasoned medical professional. “You have survivors guilt, a drinking problem and I’m willing to bet you’re not fond of loud noises or busy places?”

“No, not really.” Kris mumbles.

“Classic PTSD.” Minseok says, leaning back into his chair and folding his arms. “You’re here to get better. You _need_ to talk to me, Kris. Meds can only do so much, but therapy will cover the rest.”

The two stare at each other, Minseok’s gaze never wavering. Kris looks away after a moment.

“Okay.” He says quietly.

“Okay?”

“I-- yeah.” Kris says nervously, “Help me get better.”

\------

Yixing rubs a hand across their eyes as they wake, blinking as harsh light momentarily blinds them. There’s a pack of dry crackers and two cups of water sitting on his bedside table, and Yixing has no idea where they came from. They consume them quickly anyway, thankful for the sustenance after the morning’s treatment.

There’s goop in their hair from the ECT anchors, face oily and body sticky with dried sweat. It’s disgusting. 

Yixing heads for the shower, idly noting that Kris is absent from their shared room. Usually, their roommate will be out smoking, or lying down in his bed reading or napping. The solitude is a relief, the room suddenly a place of solace rather than nervous energy, fear, _danger._

The warm water is soothing, and Yixing spends ample time rinsing floral shampoo through their hair, lathering their body in a honey scented wash, coating themself in lotions once their skin had dried.

It’s a luxury; a pampering of the body after the destruction of the mind. When their illness takes hold it’s so easy to fall out of routine and to be consumed by emotion. Yixing always tries to make time to look after themself. It always helps them feel a little better.

It’s a jeans and fluffy sweater kind of day, Yixing decides and as they make their way towards the courtyard, they wonder just what sort of compliment Chanyeol will have for them today.

Only Chanyeol isn’t there. 

The only person in the courtyard is Kris, and they sit in an uncomfortable, tense silence before Kris stands slowly, cane clicking on the tiles as he leaves.

\------

“I’m bored.” Whines Tao, flopping onto the end of Sehun’s bed. 

“Go be bored somewhere else,” Sehun mumbles, “I’m trying to sleep.”

“I second that notion.” Comes Jongin’s voice from behind the curtain.

Yawning, Sehun unsuccessfully tries to push Tao from his bed. “You heard the man, this is a Nap Zone. No commotion allowed.”

“Can I nap with you then?” Tao pouts. Sehun wonders for the umpteenth time why everyone in the hospital tries to pout at him.

“These beds are tiny. We won’t fit.” He says, rolling over. “Now shoo.”

Tao chooses to ignore him, instead wiggling his way into the bed, back facing Sehun’s chest. He hums in contentment while Sehun groans, rearranging their limbs so that the positioning isn’t quite so awkward.

“If you move too much, I’m exiling you to Jongin’s bed.” Sehun murmurs sleepily into the skin of Tao’s neck.

“Don’t you dare.” Is Jongin’s deadpan reply, and Tao giggles slightly.

“I won’t, I promise.” Tao says, pulling Sehun’s arm around his waist and snuggling back into his chest.

“Sleep, you clingy asshole.” Comes Sehun’s sleepy reply. There’s no bite to it, and Tao listens quietly as both Sehun and Jongin drift off to sleep once more.

Tao traces his fingers up and down Sehun’s forearm as he sleeps; revels in the breath hitting his neck and the wonderful feeling of being in his arms.

It’s safe, secure. The tension seeps out of Tao’s body as he relaxes into the hold, slightly drowsy, still tracing circles into the skin on Sehun’s forearm, the back of his hand.

“Mmm, that feels nice.” Sehun whispers, lips brushing against the skin behind Tao’s ear.

“Want me to keep going?” He asks softly, not wanting to wake Jongin.

“Yeah.” And Sehun presses closer, sighing as Tao traces his fingers up, down.

Sehun only likes Tao when he’s sleepy. It’s obvious that any sort of affection he feels is a subconscious need; something that he hides away and represses, something only the blur between conscious and unconscious can reveal.

It hurts.

Tao is someone Sehun needs occasionally, but Sehun is someone Tao wants constantly.

\------

There’s a small alcove in the middle of a staircase in Theta; the brick walls make way for a large window pane, revealing a stunning view of the parking lot below to anyone who sits on the small wooden bench located in front of it. 

It’s Luhan’s place of solace, and just the sight of it makes him feel a little bit better. He’s out of the locked ward; no phones, no comfort, only harsh whites and lights that never turn off.

He’s back at Theta, and everything feels right.

Well, as right as it could possibly be, he muses, rubbing at the still bruised skin on his throat.

Baekhyun meets him at the top of the staircase, reaching out a hand to take Luhan’s belongings, mouth set in a frown.

“You’re an idiot.” He says.

“I know.” Luhan replies, almost sheepishly.

“Everyone was so worried about you.” Baekhyun says with a glare. 

Luhan doesn’t say anything, eyes on his feet. Guilt overwhelms him as he begins to cry softly.

“Hey now,” Baekhyun soothes, demeanour changing instantaneously, “Let’s get you into your room. You can save the tears for when Yixing sees you.”

Baekhyun sets a brisk pace as they walk, and Luhan struggles to keep up. “You’re not going back into your old room. You’re going into the Fishbowl until things settle down.” 

“Not the Fishbowl!” Luhan groans. 

There’s a room located next to the nurse’s office, with a small window connecting the two. The staff use it to periodically check on the patient, making sure they can’t harm themselves in any way. It’s the closest thing to a padded room as the hospital gets. 

“I know you’re a smoker, so we’re bending the rules a little for you.” Baekhyun says, unlocking the door. “You’re allowed out for a smoke whenever you want one, but a nurse must be present with you when you go out.”

“And if there’s no one to take me?” Luhan questions, taking his bag from Baekhyun and placing it on the floor. There’s no cupboards in the room. It’s empty, save for a single bed. 

“Then you wait until someone is available.” Baekhyun replies with finality. 

“Are you free now?” Luhan asks tentatively, fishing his pack and lighter from the front pocket of his bag. “Because I’m having severe nicotine withdrawals.”

“Yes, I’m free.” Baekhyun sighs. “But I can’t be out for too long. I have other patients to deal with.”

Luhan offers him a grin, before rushing outside into the courtyard, Baekhyun hot on his heels. 

He slams the door open and time stops, conversation stops. Luhan’s made it in time for the pre-dinner smoke, an unspoken ritual held by the patients. Everyone’s there.

Chanyeol is the first to react, rushing over to Luhan and hugging him, lifting him into the air as he twirls him around. Once Luhan’s feet are safely on the ground, he throws a soft punch into his shoulder. “You asshole,” He says, “We thought we’d lost you.”

There’s no chance for Luhan to reply before Sehun and Tao appear on either side of him, hugging him tightly and forcing all the air out of his lungs.

“Guys, I can’t breathe.” He wheezes, but it just causes them to squeeze harder.

“Good.” Replies Tao into the top of his hair. “Suffer like we did.”

“I’m sorry,” He forces out, breathless. “I am so sorry.”

Kris and Jongin watch from the bench as everyone greets Luhan; laughing, messing up his hair, lightly tracing the marks left on his neck. Jongin is unsure if he can welcome Luhan back, he doesn’t know if he’s at that level of friendship. Kris on the other hand, is sure that Luhan remembers him and that any well-wishes probably wouldn’t be all that appreciated.

On the bench adjacent, Yixing sits; eyes cast down, embers at the end of their cigarette slowly burning away into nothing. They haven’t moved, haven’t responded, haven’t done anything since Luhan barged his way into the courtyard and back into their lives.

Luhan seems to notice this, as he makes his way over to Yixing, standing in front of them. He tilts their head up; two fingers under their chin, staring at their glassy eyes. Tears begin to spill out, running down Yixing’s cheek. They don’t make a sound.

“Hey.” He says softly. “I missed you.”

Yixing stands abruptly, and Luhan is taken aback. They fling their cigarette away, hand raising, motioning to hit Luhan--- 

Only take him by the hair and pull their mouths together instead. 

Yixing’s grip is firm and desperate, pushing their entire body weight into Luhan’s as they kiss him with intensity. Luhan’s hands fly to their hips to steady them, running fingertips under the edge of Yixing’s sweater, stroking gently at the skin.

Kris’ hands tighten around his lighter as he watches the scene; Yixing’s pure need, Luhan’s attempt at calming them with his mouth, his fingers, his tongue. 

They break apart, breathing heavily with foreheads pressed together. Yixing takes one look at Luhan’s mouth before kissing him again, this time softer, more loving. Kris can see the way their tongues meet through the gaps created by their lips; Luhan’s hands slipping lower and _lower_ \---  
Kris can’t take it anymore. 

He stands up and he storms out, slamming the door behind him. 

Yixing and Luhan break apart, linking hands and sitting together on the bench, curled up against each other.

“If you two could avoid doing that in front of me again, that would be cool.” Says a shellshocked Baekhyun from the doorway. “I don’t want to see my patients make out ever again.”

“Yeah, I didn’t need to see that either.” Replies Sehun, exhaling smoke.

“So much for not being into dicks, eh Luhan?” Chanyeol replies cheekily, winking at the two. 

“I’m not into dicks. Yixing’s just special.” Luhan says with a small smile, kissing Yixing on the forehead before lighting up a smoke.

Sehun gags in the background.

\------

“Are you okay?” Jongin says, walking into Kris and Yixing’s room. He knows Yixing isn’t there, they’re still outside with Luhan’s arm around their shoulders.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Kris snaps, curtains drawn around his bed.

“Luhan and Yixing.” Jongin replies, straight to the point. “I know you’re into Yixing, it must have been hard to watch.”

“I didn’t want to watch because it was two guys making out. That shit makes me sick.” Kris replies angrily.

“But I thought---”

“You thought wrong.”

“I-- okay.” Jongin sighs. “I’ll leave you and your sexuality crisis alone.”

“Get the fuck out.” Kris spits. “Get the fuck out and make sure your fucking faggot friends stay the fuck away from me.”

“Fine.” Jongin huffs, and he exits the room, slamming the sliding door shut as he leaves.

Kris rolls over, face down into the pillow and screams. 

What he saw was disgusting, he should have found it disgusting. His anger should have been directed at the fact that two men were swapping spit right in front of him.

But it wasn’t. 

His anger was stemmed from the fact that one of them, they didn’t want him.

It should have been Kris hands on Yixing’s hips, his lips they desperately kissed, his hair they gripped as their tongues met.

Kris screams into his pillow again, louder this time.

It was disgusting, he tells himself.

You’re disgusting, he tells himself.


	9. Day Eight: Halo Effect.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Halo Effect:**   
>  _The tendency to assign generally positive or generally negative traits to a person after observing one specific positive or negative trait, respectively._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today's T/W:** Mild discussion of PTSD and depression. Mentions of non-descript violence.

“I wonder what Kris’ deal was,” Chanyeol says through a mouth full of cereal. “He seemed pretty okay with the whole ‘people with dicks who like dicks’ thing a few days ago.”

Tao wipes Chanyeol’s half-chewed cereal from his face with a grimace. “Well he wasn’t okay with it last night.”

“Maybe he’s one of those ‘I don’t care if you’re gay but keep it away from me’ kind of homophobes?” Chanyeol muses, sucking on his spoon thoughtfully.

“Like he’s okay with the gay in theory but not in practice?” Tao supplies. “It’s a possibility.”

“He’s still an asshole.” Says Sehun, angrily stabbing his toast as he tries to butter it. “I knew his nice guy act wouldn’t last for long.”

“Is he giving you any trouble?” Chanyeol says to Yixing, “Because I could beat him up for you if you wanted.”

Chanyeol flexes his muscles. Sehun snorts.

“You couldn’t beat up a seven year old. What makes you think you can take on a soldier and win?” 

“He has a bad knee and I have a mean streak.” Chanyeol says, eyes glinting.

“No.” Yixing says softly, cutting through the bickering. “He’s been okay.”

“What, really?” Tao turns to them, “After his outburst I thought he’d make your life a living hell.”

“He stares a lot. It’s… unnerving.” They continue, looking over into the corner where Kris sits, alone. The two make eye contact and Yixing looks away first. “He seems really angry sometimes, but he doesn’t aim it at me.”

“That’s… surprising.” Jongin notes, “I followed him yesterday, you know, to see what was up. He threw around some slurs before kicking me out of your room.”

“He’s so angry,” Tao whispers, “It’s scary sometimes, you know?”

“I think he’s just trying to figure himself out,” Says Jongin, looking pointedly at Yixing. “Give him time.”

Yixing turns to look at Kris once more. He’s still staring, but this time Yixing holds his gaze. Kris smiles gently, and Yixing stares on in shock. This time, it’s Kris who breaks eye contact first, scowling and muttering into his coffee. 

\------

“I feel so underdressed here.” Jongin whines, walking with Sehun back to their shared room, “I mean, I haven’t changed out of my pyjamas once.”

“You’re only underdressed because you’re around Tao and Yixing.” He replies boredly, “Their ‘dressed down for hospital’ look is more fashionable than my formal wear.”

“But like, you, Chanyeol and Luhan still wear nice clothes.” Sehun’s wearing jeans, slippers and a hoodie. Hardly Vogue material. 

He raises an eyebrow at Jongin. “Chanyeol doesn’t even wear socks.” 

“But he still wears _clothes._ ” 

“If you’re so bothered by this, then why not ask someone to bring real clothes in?” Sehun mumbles. He honestly doesn’t give a fuck what Jongin -- or anyone for that matter -- wears in hospital. It’s a ward not a runway.

“No one’s really speaking to me at the moment.” Jongin says quietly, playing with the petals on one of his flower arrangements. The pressure causes it to fall off, fluttering to the floor.

“Your family still hasn’t come to terms with everything?” 

“Yeah, I was originally told I’d be here for a week. But now Minseok and Junmyeon want to keep me here longer to change my meds and intensive therapy.” He sighs, “They’re not too happy about that.”

“First rule of hospital,” Sehun says, holding up a finger, “Never believe them when they estimate your time here.” 

“I kinda figured that, yeah.” He sighs, “But like, I have self-esteem issues and having Yixing and Tao looking so hot around me all the time just doesn’t help. Nor does having my parents ignore me because I’m taking too long to _get fixed_.”

“Wait, you think _Tao_ is _hot_?” 

“That’s the only thing you took from all that?” Jongin squints at him, “But yes, I think Tao is hot as fuck.”

“What the fuck man, _it’s Tao_.” Sehun shudders.

“I’m aware it’s Tao.” Jongin answers simply, “It’s Tao who is ridiculously attractive, with wonderful thighs and the nicest ass---”

“Okay, yes I get it, thank you for elaborating.” Sehun babbles, cutting Jongin off.

“But no, seriously,” Jongin leans forward, staring straight at him, “You’ve never once checked out Tao’s ass?”

“Nope.” Sehun pops the ‘p’ as he speaks, turning his face away from Jongin.

“You totally have.” Jongin says accusingly, “Even Chanyeol rates his ass a solid eight, and he’s a boob man.”

“I--- fine. Yes I have.” Sehun admits. “Tao’s ass is a solid ten.”

“There we go!” Jongin yells triumphantly, “I knew you had it in you! Or rather you’d want to have your dick---”

“Jongin, no.”

“But also, it looks really firm? Like you could hold onto it during sex---”

“Jongin you need to stop.”

“Tao looks like the kinda guy to be into some really kinky shit---”

“Jongin! Stop!” Sehun yells, and Jongin cackles wildly. In Sehun’s opinion, he’s never looked uglier. 

“You know, for someone who claims to have had a lot of sex, you sure are a prude.” Jongin says smugly. 

Sehun doesn’t bother replying, instead choosing to throw a pillow at his roommates face.

\------

Luhan frantically waves at Kyungsoo through the small window, trying to catch his attention.

Motioning the hand signal for smoking, Luhan’s shoulders slump in defeat as the nurse shakes his head sadly.

 _Busy._ He mouths through the glass, but upon seeing Luhan’s reaction, he follows it up with a _Soon._

Luhan feels like a prisoner. 

He can’t leave his room without supervision, actions monitored under the constant watch of the nursing staff. They don’t let him eat with the others, instead bringing food back to his room, still watching, always watching, making sure he doesn’t take hide cutlery and use it to self harm.

Even his phone charger has been confiscated; the nurses plugging his phone into a powerpoint in their office when the battery runs low. He has to borrow lighters from fellow patients.

It’s boring, lonely and -- in his opinion -- quite unnecessary. There’s a multitude of patients in Theta admitted following suicide attempts, yet he’s the only one subject to the mind numbing experience of the Fishbowl Room. 

Of course, that’s not the room’s proper name. The plate outside reads the words Special Consideration rather than a number. 

He scoffs. _Special Consideration_ is a nice way of saying _Patient We Don’t Trust._

The room is the worst idea in modern mental health care; who thought that leaving a dangerous, suicidal patient in a room with their own thoughts and no distractions would make anything better? 

Keys jingle and the door is unlocked. Luhan is disappointed to see Junmyeon standing in the doorway rather than Kyungsoo, signifying he has an appointment with the psychiatrist rather than a much needed cigarette.

“Hello Luhan,” He says, tone light yet professional. “Are you free?”

Luhan gestures to the empty room around him. “Does it look like I’m doing anything?” He asks.

“Right.” Junmyeon clears his throat awkwardly. “Follow me.”

They walk towards the consultation room and Luhan doesn’t even attempt to keep up with Junmyeon’s fast paced walking, instead taking a moment to enjoy being out of the suffocating atmosphere of his room. 

It shows just how stifling it is, being in the Fishbowl, if a walk through winding and clinical corridors is a refreshing change of scenery.

“Take a seat.” Junmyeon says as they reach the room, motioning towards the patient’s chair. “I hear you’ve been a little bit silly.”

Luhan stares at him blankly. His leg shakes with pent up nervous energy. “I think silly would be a bit of an understatement.” 

“I agree.” Junmyeon stares back with a frown. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“You’re the doc that gives me my meds. Minseok is the one who deals with feelings.” 

“That is true,” Junmyeon says. “But I need to know what your symptoms were in order to treat you properly.”

Luhan sighs, fidgeting. “Well, I’m here for a mixed episode, you know that,” Junmyeon hums in response, waiting for him to continue, “And I had this… breakdown.”

“Describe this _breakdown._ ” Junmyeon prompts curiously.

“Um well, I don’t remember it that well,” Luhan says as he rests a hand on his leg, trying to stop it from shaking. “But there was a lot of emotion. I just remember screaming and crying and being really angry?” 

He takes a deep breath. “It was like… a surge of negative emotion, and I was just left so drained and depressed afterwards that I.. yeah.”

“That sounds like a panic attack.” Junmyeon muses thoughtfully. 

“It didn’t feel like my usual panic attacks though?” Luhan retorts, “Like, I wasn’t scared or hyperventilating. I was just really emotional.”

“There’s more than one type of panic attack.” Junmyeon says. “The most common one is of course the overwhelming sense of fear, but panicked, violent outbursts are also considered a form of anxiety.”

“Oh.” Luhan says. “I never knew that. I just associated those kinds of things with mixed episodes.”

“I think,” Junmyeon starts, “That while Anxiety isn’t your main problem, it is definitely a tipping point. I think that when your emotions get the better of you, the Anxiety takes control and causes an upset with your Bipolar.”

“I see,” Says Luhan. “So what are we going to do about it.”

“I’m going to prescribe you an anti-depressant called _Fluvoxamine._ It helps with Anxiety.” 

“But… don’t antidepressants make people with Bipolar go manic?” Luhan asks, bewildered.  
“Yes, elevated emotions are a possible side effect, but we’ll start you on a low dose, and move up. If it doesn’t work, we’ll pick a new one and start again.”

“I… fair enough.” Luhan says, resigned.

“Good. Now, do you have any more questions for me?” Junmyeon asks.

“Yeah. Is my old bed still free? The Fishbowl really isn’t helping my current condition.”

“Are you going to be alright, back out with the rest of the hospital?” He enquires. Luhan is an honest patient; if he doesn’t think he’s going to be safe then he’ll say so. Junmyeon trusts him.

“I’ll be fine.” Luhan says with finality.

“I’ll see what I can do.” Junmyeon replies softly. 

There are all sorts of patients in Theta, he muses later as Luhan leaves, Jongdae escorting him back to the Special Consideration room. Some will never recover, but are resigned to their fate; like Chanyeol. He takes the days where his illness doesn’t bother him and considers them a gift. There are others, who will never recover but dispise their fate; like Sehun. He views his life as an eternal struggle, and doesn’t really have the will to recover. 

But Luhan, he’s different. He’s the type of patient who will fall down and then get back up. He’ll relapse, recover and get stronger each time. Luhan reacts to medication changes well, he trusts Junmyeon completely. Luhan _wants_ to get better. 

Junmyeon likes patients like Luhan.

\------

“Could you shut up for just one moment.” Chanyeol mumbles around the end of his cigarette butt. 

“I’m… not talking?” Kris says, bewildered. 

“Not you, I’m talking to the voices.” Chanyeol replies, rubbing at his temples with annoyance. 

“I... Oh.” Kris isn’t really sure how to respond, if he’s honest with himself. He’s never dealt with someone who suffers through Psychosis. 

“Like, I’m aware enough at the moment that they aren’t real. That it’s just my Schizophrenia playing up, but like, fuck. It’s really annoying.”

“It sounds annoying.” Kris says, still at a loss for words.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He says, blowing smoke in Kris’ direction. “And what’s worse, I get the most stereotypical fucking Schizophrenic delusions on the planet.” 

Chanyeol angrily stubs out his cigarette, pulling a fresh one from the pack. “Voices. Aliens. Alien voices in my head. Thinking that the government is watching me because Aliens have abducted me.” 

“Well, yeah. I mean, that’s something I think of when I hear Schizophrenia.” Kris says, and Chanyeol snorts, “But none the less, it still sounds… scary?”

“Terrifying.” Chanyeol says. “But at least I don’t see shit, you feel me? Auditory hallucinations suck, but imagine _visual_ ones.” 

“I get visual hallucinations.” Kris says quietly. 

“Oh shit man, no way.” Chanyeol sits up, still rubbing at his temples. “So are you like me and ‘Xing? Psychosis Club?”

“Not really.” Kris says cautiously. “I have Combat PTSD.” 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Chanyeol says quietly, “Here I was complaining about a few voices when you have to deal with so much more.”

Kris is surprised, but he schools his face into passive indifference, curious as to what his fellow patient has to say. “What do you mean?” He lights up another cigarette.

“Think about it. You get all the worst symptoms from all the disorders --anxiety, depression, mood swings, nightmares, hallucinations-- and then you put them into one package.” 

Chanyeol gets up from his bench, moving to sit next to Kris, wrapping his arm around the other patient’s shoulder. “And it’s all real. None of the shit in my head is real. But yours? That happened.”

“My PTSD is my fault though. You didn’t choose to get Schizophrenia. It just happened.”

“I will say, you did choose to go to war.” Chanyeol says darkly. “Sorry, I hate conflicts. I hate the deaths; both civilian and soldiers. I don’t support it in the slightest.”

The atmosphere is tense. 

“But, I support soldiers.” Chanyeol says gently. “Because I’ve seen enough come through here that I know just how badly it can fuck someone up. I think that’s why I’m so anti-war in the first place. It just...fucks too many people up.”

“I was --am-- a Sergeant.” Kris starts, “I was leading a Reconnaissance group when we were ambushed.” 

Chanyeol rubs soothing circles into his back as he talks.

“We were walking through an abandoned village when an IED went off.” He takes in Chanyeol’s confused expression. “That’s military talk for a homemade explosive used in combat. In this case, a car bomb.”

Kris takes a deep breath. “Two of my men died in the explosion. The rest of us received burns and shrapnel damage.” He touches his knee lightly. “But then the gunfire started.” 

“Oh, Kris.” Chanyeol says, and Kris realises he’s started to cry. 

“There was another platoon in the area, so backup came quickly.” Kris says, wiping away tears. “But once all the dust settled, we realised that the village wasn’t as empty as we thought.”

“Fuck.” Chanyeol whispers, drawing Kris closer as his tears start to flow freely. 

“Seeing dead soldiers is hard, even if they’re the enemy.” Kris starts, mumbling into Chanyeol’s neck. “But dead kids? That’s something you’re never able to forget.”

\------

“Junmyeon’s asked for Luhan to be transferred back into his old room,” Jongdae says as he flips through the patient’s file. “When should we do that?” 

“Well, when did Junmyeon say he should be transferred?” Baekhyun asks distractedly, preparing the midday medication for one of the elderly patients.

 _At your leisure._ Jongdae reads from the file. “At least that’s what I think it says. His writing is atrocious.” 

“It’s a thing they learn in med school.” Baekhyun says lightly pushing the door to the medicine room open. “But yeah, finish what you’re doing and then break him out.” 

Jongdae does his rounds, checking on his patients. Jongin is in his room, reading. He doesn’t really want to talk, but thanks Jongdae for his concern none the less. 

_Progress_ , thinks Jongdae as he walks out of the room. 

The schizophrenic lady in Room Two tells him that he’s being blessed by fairies. She’s a kind woman in her mid-forties, who even in her state of wellness is a spiritual being. She had gifted him a Blue Tiger’s Eye pendant strung onto a leather necklace, for no other reason than simply wanting to.

“For intuition, insight and communication.” She had said, eyes crinkling as she smiled. “Also for protection. Perfect for a nurse.”

Jongdae still wears it around his neck.

The Bipolar Vietnam Veteran from Room Ten snarks him, complains about his wife and the lack of female nurses at the facility. 

“Sunny is cute, you know? But I wish there were more girls like Krystal around. Why does she only work two days a week?” He mutters into his coffee. It’s the same conversation every time.

But this time, he quietly admits that he misses his family, and that he hopes his grandchildren visit him soon. 

The desperation in his voice makes Jongdae’s heart ache.

You don’t become a nurse unless you care about the patients, Jongdae muses. He won’t take their problems home with him, but while he’s at work, he makes sure that each and every person under his care feels safe. Looked after. Cared for. Wanted.

“I’m here to stage a breakout.” Says Jongdae as he unlocks the door to Luhan’s room, and the wide grin he gets in reply is rewarding. “Grab your things.”

Luhan rushes to his bag, pulling out a box of cigarettes. “God I’ve been waiting all day for a smoke. Jongdae you’re an angel.”

He laughs. “No, I mean an _actual_ break out. You’re going back to your old room.” 

“No way!” Luhan cheers, ecstatic. “Jongdae I love you!”

He wheezes as the patient wraps him up into a hug, crushing the air from his lungs. 

“Look, if you could break Junmyeon’s ribs instead of mine, that would be great.” Jongdae says after Luhan puts him down. “He’s the one who ordered the room transfer.”

Jongdae gets Luhan’s charger and lighter from the nurse’s office as he packs, handing them to a still grinning Luhan as they walk through the door together. 

“Alright. It’s nearly lunch time. Go have your smoke and enjoy your freedom.” 

Jongdae watches fondly as Luhan scampers out of the room, smile ever present on his face.

\------

Tao drops his cutlery. Tao bends over to pick it up. Sehun tries not to groan from behind him.

Jongin just sends him a knowing look. 

“God lunch today is so shit,” Says a voice from behind them in the line, “I’m so sick of hospital food.” 

The three turn to look at the newcomer, eyes widening when they see Luhan’s smiling face.

“Welcome back to the real world,” Sehun says, reaching over Jongin’s shoulder to pat Luhan on the head. “Such as it is.”

“Good to be back.” He says lightly. “God I never thought I’d say this, but it’s nice to be able to exercise.”

“That is the most un-Luhan thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Says Tao as he shuffles along the line. “Well, the most un-Luhan thing ever was that whole making out with Yixing stunt you pulled yesterday.”

“You know how they get,” Luhan shrugs, “They’re a very touchy-feely person. I knew they’d pull something like that when I got back.”

“Speaking of touchy-feely,” Sehun starts, “I walked out into the courtyard area today and saw Chanyeol hugging Kris.”

“Woah.” The others breathe in unison.

“And the biggest thing? Kris was _crying._ ” 

“Hospital bromance.” Luhan shrugs. “Happens all the time.” 

Tao nods in agreement. “Honestly, the best therapy in hospital comes from talking to patients, not psychs.” 

“If people can avoid crying on me, that would be nice.” Sehun says dryly, scooping vegetables onto his plate. 

The others ignore him. 

“Looks like Kris is back in the group, then.” Jongin says, gesturing towards their usual table. Chanyeol and Kris sit at one end, Yixing at the other. It looks tense and uncomfortable, but Chanyeol seems to be babbling none the less. 

“Let’s go save Yixing from that torture.” Luhan laughs, making his way through the crowded tables, before sitting down next to his friend. 

“Hey,” He says, placing a hand on Yixing’s shoulder, “I’m out of the Fishbowl.” 

Yixing smiles as Luhan sits down, leaning over to kiss him gently. “I’m glad.” 

Kris’ hand clenches around his fork.

“What’s up with you two,” Chanyeol asks, “Are you dating now or what?” 

“Nah,” Yixing waves their hand flippantly, “I show my affection by kissing. That’s just how I am.” 

“How come you’ve never kissed me?” Chanyeol all but shouts. Sehun winces as he sits down.

“Does Daddy want a kiss?” Yixing asks, sultry. 

The entire table groans. 

“Not this shit again.” Mutters Sehun.

“Save it for your girlfriend, Chanyeol.” Says Tao.

Kris relaxes visibly, but no one seems to notice. 

Except Jongin, who offers a small smile in Kris’ direction. He knows Kris is still coming to terms with his attraction to Yixing, and that the rather, well, passionate reunion between his roommate and their friend had taken a toll on his emotions. 

It must be a relief, Jongin thinks, to know that the object of your affections isn’t interested in someone else. 

Thoughts come to him, unbidden, reminding him of his first date with Kyungsoo. The one where he’d thought Jongin was checking out Baekhyun’s girlfriend --now fiance-- at the cafe where they met. 

He remembers the coy smiles around coffee mugs, the innocent flirting, the wonderful feeling of being wanted. 

Jongin hates that after all this time, all he can think about is Kyungsoo.

\------

“So Jongin,” Starts Minseok, “What would you like to talk about today.”

“Well,” Jongin clears his throat lightly, “Uh, someone from my past has recently come back into my life.”

“Is this a good or a bad thing?” Minseok prompts, looking at his patient.

“Bad. Definitely bad.” Jongin replies quickly. “They… uh… hurt me a lot. Seeing them brings up a lot of painful memories.”

“Do you mind telling me?” Minseok asks softly. 

Jongin takes a deep breath. “There’s good and bad memories. But the good ones hurt more than the bad.”

“How so?”

“Because I think about the good things, and how they were all lies.” 

“I don’t think I understand the situation at all, Jongin.” Says Minseok. He’s lying. Junmyeon had briefed him the second Kyungsoo’s past with their patient came to light. 

“I dated a guy in university.” Says Jongin. “He said he loved me despite all my issues, but then one day he up and left when I needed him the most.”

Minseok stays quiet as Jongin talks, observing his patient as he retells the tale of his first love. How they met in class, how wonderful their relationship was, how _beautiful_ a young Kyungsoo looked to a young Jongin. How it all fell apart. 

“When he left, I felt so worthless. I felt so unwanted.” Jongin says. He’s not crying, but he looks like he’s about to. “I’m here because of him. I haven’t been happy in four years, and it’s all his fault.”

The session ends, and Minseok escorts an exhausted looking Jongin back to his room, telling him to sleep off the emotion.

 _The situation regarding Jongin is more serious than we had anticipated._ Notes Minseok in the patient file. _The issue at hand needs to be discussed in further detail. Those aware will be notified for a meeting within the next few days._


	10. Day Nine: Repetition Compulsion.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Repetition Compulsion:**   
>  _In psychoanalytic theory, the impulse to reenact earlier emotional experiences._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today's T/W** : Drug usage (mentioned once), idk do I have to warn for discussion of orgies?

Yixing takes a look at themself in the mirror and sighs.

They look like a boy. 

It’s an attempt to ease the tension between themself and their roommate. Kris’ unnerving stares increase in frequency when Yixing wears an article of female clothing and quite frankly, they’re sick of it.

 _I shouldn’t really be doing this,_ They think to themself angrily, pulling the snapback they borrowed from Chanyeol onto their head, _It’s Kris who has the problem, not me._

But it’s starting to become a problem for the group. According to the others, Kris is likable, and almost embarrassing when with them, but stone cold silent the second Yixing is in the picture.

They have no idea what they’ve done to offend him. 

Actually, they know _exactly_ what they’ve done, but it’s not like they can help it. Being Genderqueer isn’t their choice at all, it’s just who they are. 

Kris doesn’t know what it feels like to be different. He has no idea what it’s like, feeling unwelcome in his own skin. He’s never tried to _peel_ himself in a desperate panic, feeling so uncomfortable and boxed in and helpless. 

Kris has grown up with role models for his gender, he fits into a cookie cutter mold and is accepted for who he is. 

Yixing has none of that. Yixing has none of that and the scars to prove it. 

Yet here they are, trying desperately to squash themself back into the box they finally burst free from, just so some asshole might look them in the eye when they speak.

Kris has no idea what Yixing has gone through, and doesn’t even make an attempt to treat them like a human being. 

Yixing despises Kris, and everyone like him.

\------

“I’m here to collect your dick.” Baekhyun says as he throws a thick manilla folder onto the table in front of Kyungsoo. 

“What have I done this time?” Kyungsoo asks wearily, eyes widening in shock when he sees _Kim Jongin_ written across the top of the file.

“Read the last entry.” Baekhyun hisses. “There’s going to be an _emergency meeting._ ”

“I haven’t done anything.” Says Kyungsoo defensively, eyes scanning the report.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you following him around.” Baekhyun whispers harshly, they’re creating a scene, and they’re far from alone in the staffroom. “You stand outside his door and watch him sleep. You make yourself Sehun’s nurse so you can see him. You’re fucking _stalking him._ ” 

Baekhyun sighs, running his hand through his hair. Kyungsoo’s silence gives his guilt away. 

“I just… I just want to make sure he’s alright.” He says softly. 

“He’s obviously not alright, because he’s in here.” Says Baekhyun, “And you’re making it worse, not better.” 

“Then how can I make it better?” Kyungsoo asks quietly, eyes still on the folder in front of him.

“By leaving him the fuck alone, so shit like this--” Baekhyun spits, jabbing his finger at the report “--doesn’t happen again.” 

“I miss him.” Kyungsoo says softly. “I miss him so much.”

Baekhyun’s rage quells immediately. “I know you do. But he’s a patient here, and you have to treat him like one. If him getting better means not seeing much of you, then that’s a thing that needs to happen.”

He stands up, taking Jongin’s file with him. “I’m sorry, Kyungsoo. I really am.”

\------

Tao and Chanyeol all but skip into the cafeteria, arms linked, with each of them carrying a plate filled with small yellow pastries. 

“Ooh, lemon tarts!” Luhan says as they arrive at the table, and he immediately pushes his lunch aside in favour of taking one from Tao’s plate. 

“You should really come to the next cooking class, Luhan.” Says Chanyeol as he sits. He hasn’t even bothered with lunch, instead digging into his tarts with abandon. 

“I’m good. I’ll just eat whatever you guys make.” He replies, taking another pastry. 

“Seconding that notion,” Says Jongin, joining Luhan in abandoning his lunch in favour of dessert. “I suck at cooking.”

Yixing takes a tart wordlessly, but hums as they take a bite; the bitter lemon curd cuts through the rich buttery pastry just right. 

“I keep missing cooking class,” Says Kris as he sits down, sneaking a tart from the rapidly decreasing pile and placing it on his tray for later. “Can someone remind me next time it’s on?” 

“There’s no real schedule to it,” Says Sehun, “It happens whenever Kyungsoo feels like running it.” 

“Kyungsoo runs cooking class?” Jongin asks in surprise, and the memories start flooding back -- Kyungsoo in an apron, Kyungsoo cooking for him, Kyungsoo smiling whenever Jongin compliments his cooking----

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 

“Yeah!” Tao shouts with a mouth full of tart, “He’s really good. Next time we’re making one of his own personal recipes.” 

“Wha-- what is it?” Jongin asks, clearing his throat. “What are you making,”

“A layered tiramisu cake.” Tao replies excitedly, “But without the alcohol you know, because it messes with everyone’s medication---”

Jongin zones out as Tao speaks. _Layered Tiramisu Cake._ The recipe he made just for Jongin. 

_“I made this for you.”_ Kyungsoo had said one day, placing a beautifully decorated cake onto Jongin’s kitchen bench. _“I found the recipe online, but I made it my own.”_

Jongin had kissed him then, sweetly, touched by the sentiment. 

_“This cake reminds me of you, you know?”_ Kyungsoo had whispered as they broke apart. _“It’s Tiramisu.”_

“What, because of my skin?” Jongin had laughed.

 _“Not at all.”_ Kyungsoo had replied seriously. _“It reminds me of you because I fell in love with you over coffee. It reminds me of you because you have so many layers to you; some are sweet, some are bold. Some are texture and some are flavour. They’re all so different to each other, but together, they’re perfect.”_

Kyungsoo had kissed him again, a little deeper. _“You’re perfect, Jongin.”_

The snapping of Tao’s fingers bring Jongin back to reality. “You alright in there, buddy?” He says with a laugh, “You zoned out on us.”

“Sorry,” He replies sheepishly, “You were saying?”

“Yeah, well, as I was saying, apparently this is such a special cake to Kyungsoo.” Tao’s hands are flapping excitedly. Sehun manages to shift his coffee before Tao’s rapidly moving hands spilt it all over the table, “He says it’s his favourite dessert, and every time he eats it, he thinks of the person he loves.”

Tao collapses on the table, head in his hands while he sighs dreamily. “Isn’t that romantic? Being loved by someone like Kyungsoo, that sounds so wonderful, doesn’t it?

Jongin’s chair screeches as he stands. “Being loved by Kyungsoo is far from wonderful,” He spits, “Take it from me.” 

He exits the cafeteria dramatically, and the others watch on in a stunned silence.

“Well, that was…” Starts Chanyeol, unsure what to say.

“Unexpected.” Tao finishes for him, staring off after Jongin’s retreating figure.

“You two don’t look all that surprised.” Luhan says, pointing to Sehun and Kris. “Is there something you aren’t telling us.”

“Sehun and Kris aren’t capable of making that kind of facial expression.” Says Tao, poking at his cheek. Sehun bats his hand away with a grimace. 

“I don’t know about you,” Says Sehun as he turns to Kris, “But that reaction doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

“We’re on the same page, then.” Replies Kris, and the two share an understanding nod.

“So you’re saying that Jongin and Kyungsoo...” Chanyeol says, processing the information.

“They were dating, yes.” Says Sehun, “I don’t know the full story, but I know it ended badly.”

“I don’t know the full story either, but Jongin has some choice words to say about Kyungsoo when provoked.” Adds Kris, and the rest of the table stares on in shock. 

“Wow.” Luhan says, thoughtfully. “This is all so dramatic.” 

“Says you.” Yixing elbows him in the side lightly. Their movement causes their body to brush against Kris’ and they still. 

They have no idea why Kris sat next to them at lunch. He still hasn’t addressed them properly, but then again, there’s been no reason to.

There’s no reason for Kris to be sitting as close to them as he is, either. 

Yet here they are. 

If Yixing were to rest their elbows on the table, they’d brush arms with Kris. As it is, their shoulders and thighs are almost touching, and Yixing can feel the heat radiating from his body. It would be comforting, if only Kris wasn’t so _terrifying._

They’re so nervous, being in this sort of proximity to Kris, it’s the kind of proximity they associate with Luhan or Chanyeol; someone they’re close with. 

Not someone who hates him. 

Yixing nervously reaches for their cup, shaking hand making brief contact with Kris’ as they raise the cup to their lips. They jolt in surprise; spilling water over their hand and wrist and onto the table. 

“So clumsy!” Laughs Luhan from beside them, using napkins from his tray to wipe up the mess on the table. 

“Here.” Kris says, voice oddly soft. He takes Yixing by the wrist, pressing his own napkins into Yixing’s hand. To their surprise, he proceeds to wipe the liquid off for them, running the paper across their fingers, making sure to dry them completely. 

His touch is soft, gentle, and Yixing is so confused. This man will glare at them, call them names, ignore their entire existence. And now that he’s touching them for the first time, he’s almost caressing them; thumb tracing along the veins in Yixing’s wrist, across the small white scars he finds there. 

“Thanks.” They whisper, offering a small smile. 

“No problem.” He replies, and his fingertips slide from Yixing’s skin, crumpling the damp napkin in his hand. 

If anyone at the table noticed the exchange, they don’t say a word.

\------

“How’s ECT treating you, Sehun?” Asks Junmyeon as his patient is seated. 

“Terribly.” He replies monotone. “My memories are fucked. I don’t know what’s going on half the time.”

“But the other half of the time, are you feeling any better?” Junmyeon prompts. Sehun’s had enough ECT treatments to start showing results. “Is your depression as bad as before?” 

“I don’t want to say it’s getting better, because then I’d have to keep doing it.” He says softly. “But yes, I’m feeling a little better.”

“So you think the ECT is working?” Junmyeon tries to conceal his surprise, he’d never expected Sehun to openly admit that the treatment was beneficial. 

“It’s starting to, yeah.” Sehun takes a deep breath, “But I don’t know if it’s the ECT or the company.”

“What do you mean by that?” He enquires with interest. “You’ve never been one to have an interest in people.”

“Some of the other patients here, they’re… good for me. I think.” Sehun says, and Junmyeon smiles. 

“Nice to see you’re making friends.” He remarks.

Sehun hums in response. 

“I think we’ll run you through two or three more sessions of ECT, then leave it a week. If you keep improving like this, you’ll be out in no time.” 

“Seriously?” Sehun says with a wide grin. “Doc, you’re the best.”

Junmyeon manages to retain his professionalism, conducting the rest of the session as he normally would. 

It’s not until Sehun leaves that he allows himself to sit and stare in shock.

Junmyeon’s known Oh Sehun for the better part of five years, and not once has he seen the patient smile.

\------  
“Tiramisu Cake? Fucking _really_ , Kyungsoo?” Jongin hisses. The nurse stares at him with wide eyes.

“Jongin--” 

“Don’t fucking ‘Jongin’ me.” 

“Jongin you need to calm down---”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Kyungsoo. Not now, not ever.” Jongin seethes. Kyungsoo is glad that they’re in the smoker’s area at the front of the hospital; away from prying eyes and ears. 

“What are you even doing here?” Jongin asks, suddenly resigned. He tries to take a drag from his cigarette, but finds it broken and unsmokable; crushed in his hand due to rage. He sighs angrily, lighting up another one.

“I’m doing the rounds.” Kyungsoo says meekly, gesturing towards the board in his hand. “I needed to see where you were.”

“I meant here, in the hospital.” Jongin won’t even look at him. Kyungsoo’s heart aches. “Last time I checked, you couldn’t get a job as a psych nurse with a history degree.”

“I don’t have a history degree, Jongin.” Says Kyungsoo, “I have a degree in nursing, majoring in psychiatric care.”

“You’re a terrible nurse.” Kyungsoo flinches.

“And you’re the only one who thinks that.” He replies.

“I wonder why.” Jongin says sarcastically. 

“I’ve changed.” Kyungsoo says softly, “Since the last time I saw you, I’ve changed a lot.”

“No you haven’t.” He replies coldly, “You’re exactly the same.”

“And how would you know?” Kyungsoo all but shouts, “This is the first conversation we’ve had since you got in.”

“This is more like an argument.” Retorts Jongin, angrily exhaling smoke.

“We could have a conversation if you wanted to.” Says Kyungsoo pointedly. “You’re the one who started yelling.” 

“You’re the one who started spreading bullshit to other patients. _Oh, this is my Tiramisu Cake recipe, I eat it and think of the person I love_.” Jongin imitates Kyungsoo’s voice with a scowl.

“How did you--” 

“Tao was talking about it over lunch. Said it was _romantic_. Said being loved by you sounded so _wonderful_.” 

Jongin inhales shakily. “I told him it wasn’t.” 

Kyungsoo stands in shocked silence, staring at Jongin. His mouth opens and closes, unable to form a retort.

“You say you’ve changed,” Jongin says as he stands, making his way towards Kyungsoo. “But you haven’t.” 

“Yes I have,” Kyungsoo replies weakly, “If you’d just let me show you…” 

Jongin stands in front of Kyungsoo now, almost chest to chest. Usually, the position would bring back all sorts of memories -- sweet kisses, happy moments from an age ago -- but now, the atmosphere is all wrong. Jongin isn’t looking at Kyungsoo with infatuation, but with rage.

“Every day, you recreate our relationship; substituting me with the other patients,” Jongin says lowly, _finally_ looking Kyungsoo in the eyes, “You pick them up, try and fix them, bake them _special cakes_ , but at the end of the day, you leave. You throw them away. And then you come back the next day to do it all over again.” 

He inhales the last of his cigarette, throwing the butt carelessly to the side. 

Jongin exhales the last of his smoke into Kyungsoo’s face, smirking as the nurse coughs. 

“You haven’t changed at all.”

Kyungsoo sinks to his knees as Jongin exits the courtyard, dropping his board and burying his face in his hands.

He swears the tears come from the sting of Jongin’s smoke, not from the sting of his words.

\------

“God, I miss my girlfriend.” Chanyeol whines. 

It’s dark out, after dinner, and the smokers have assembled in the courtyard; pyjama clad and huddling together for warmth.

Tao throws his lighter at Chanyeol’s forehead. “You saw your girlfriend yesterday. You went out for dinner. You’ve been texting her all day.” 

“I know I saw her yesterday. I just _miss_ her, if you know what I mean.” Chanyeol waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Gross.” Tao mumbles around the end of his cigarette. “Please don’t start talking about your sex life.”

“Hey, you all get to talk about your various sexcapades, so why can’t I?” He pouts unattractively. “Plus, Sooyoung’s been sexting me all day, I’m frustrated.” 

“You have a hand, and you have a shower. You know what to do.” Tao says flippantly, earning a giggle from the group. 

“I see where he’s coming from, though. I’m going through the biggest dry spell of my life.” Luhan moans into Yixing’s shoulder. They pat his hair comfortingly. 

“I haven’t had sex in a year.” Says Jongin, “And even then it was just a friend throwing me a pity fuck.” 

“I’ve never been on the receiving end of a pity fuck before,” Tao says laughing. “Well, I mean I’ve been the one _receiving_ during a pity fuck but…” 

“Too much information.” Sehun wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Alright, Mister Prude,” Luhan says, pointing at Sehun, “How long is _your_ dry spell.”

“I had sex… a week before I got here?” He says thoughtfully, “So not that long.” 

“Was it some God-awful drunk one night stand?” Luhan asks accusingly, “If so it doesn’t count.”

“I took a bunch of MDMA and ended up in an orgy.” Sehun replies, completely deadpan. 

“Oh my God.” Scream Tao and Jongin at the same time, scandalized. 

“Y-you’re joking, right?” Chanyeol asks. He’s not too sure if he wants to know the answer. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” Sehun asks, pointing to his face. “It’s not the first time it’s happened, either.” 

He takes a drag from his cigarette, eyeing the shocked faces of the group with a smug expression. 

“Do you want details?” Sehun asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“I feel like I’m going to regret saying this,” Says Chanyeol, “But yes.” 

Sehun laughs, taking another drag of his cigarette. “I don’t really remember much, or how it started,” He exhales a stream of smoke before he continues, “But there was about ten of us? All I can really remember is that at one point, there were two dicks up my ass. And at another point, I was getting fucked by a guy, a girl was riding me, and another guy was sitting on my face.”

The shocked silence is broken by Tao. “ _He eats ass._ ” He whispers in awe. 

“Is that… a good thing?” Kris asks, curiously. 

Everyone but Chanyeol nods in agreement. 

“I saw Jongin nodding, and I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.” Tao mutters, “I believe that Kyungsoo is a sweet, virginal nurse who hasn’t tongue fucked a patient, and I’m sticking to those beliefs.”

“Can we not talk about Kyungsoo?” Jongin mutters darkly. 

Tao clears his throat. “Right. Sorry.” 

“What’s so good about it?” Kris asks again, “Like why are you all making such a big deal?”

“Go out and find a girl willing to rim you.” Luhan says to him. “I’ll make a group chat named “Kris Gets a Rimjob” and we’ll all sit around waiting for you to post about having seen the light.”

“Can we rename the group “Rimming Experiences” instead?” Asks Tao, “Then we can all post about it until Kris and Chanyeol get peer pressured into providing input.”

“Does it… uh… have to be a girl?” Kris asks with a cough, trying to avoid making eye contact with the rest of the group.

“No way.” Sehun breathes. 

“Looks like someone’s caught a case of the bi-curious!” Cackles Luhan obnoxiously, while Chanyeol stares at him as if betrayed. 

“I trusted you. I thought I had a straight ally.” Chanyeol whines dramatically. 

“What made you change your mind?” Tao asks curiously. 

“You all gave me a lot to think about.” Kris says, almost shyly, eyes drifting towards Yixing. They refuse to look him in the eye.

 

\------

 

“What the fuck is your deal?” Yixing hisses as they enter their shared room. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kris replies quietly, sliding his feet from his slippers and making his way towards his bed. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Yixing says, yanking their shirt forcefully over their head. Kris tries not to stare, “You couldn’t even handle watching Luhan and I make out, yet now you want some guys tongue near your ass? What are you playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything. I’m just curious.” He says, removing his own shirt, throwing the article of clothing haphazardly to the side.

“You know what I think?” Yixing asks, arms folded across their chest. They look downright murderous. “You’re trying so hard to fit in here. You want that old army comradery back _so badly_ that you’re willing to pretend you’re one of us, just to feel like you’re part of that kind of _brotherhood_ again.”

Yixing pulls the curtains separating their beds closed with a harsh tug. 

“It’s offensive.” Yixing says, voice cold. “You’ll leave this fucking place, go find a nice girl to fuck and forget about everything you’ve ever said here.”

There’s a pause, a rustling of blankets as Yixing gets into bed. “Sexuality isn’t a novelty. Pretending to be into guys when you aren’t doesn’t make you likable. It makes you an asshole.”

“I’m sorry.” Kris says quietly. 

Yixing huffs in response, turning out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The Sooyoung I mention as Chanyeol's girlfriend isn't SNSD's Sooyoung, it's Joy! I mean, their 'dating rumours' are such a stretch I think some shoulders got dislocated, but they're both my cute little muffins and I ship it (fight me)
> 
> For those who are curious, Joy's diagnosis is Schitzoaffective Disorder (same as Yixing).


	11. Day Ten: Detachment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Detachment:**   
>  _A behavior pattern characterized by general aloofness in interpersonal contact; may include intellectualization, denial, and superficiality._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today's T/W:** Discussion of self-loathing, suicidal thoughts.

“So,” Says Junmyeon calmly. “What seems to be the issue here?” 

For both Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, the situation seems eerily familiar. The two sit side by side in Junmyeon’s consultation office, desperately trying not to look the psychiatrist in the eyes.

Only this time it’s worse. The nurses squirm uncomfortably under the gazes of both Junmyeon _and_ Minseok. 

The situation seems dire.

“During my session with Jongin, he said some rather _interesting_ things about Kyungsoo.” Says Minseok. Kyungsoo has his eyes trained on the floor, unwilling to look up. “Long story short, the patient blames him for his admission.”

Kyungsoo looks up in shock. “He what--”

“The patient experiences extreme abandonment issues on top of his depressive episodes. His melancholia has caused him to lose jobs, friendships and relationships, however, it’s the loss of Kyungsoo that has caused the most permanent damage.” Minseok says, the tone of his voice is professional, cold. 

“Good lord.” Junmyeon says, rubbing a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m going to say the professional thing first. Have you considered diagnosing Jongin with Borderline Personality Disorder? If the abandonment issues are that extreme. Because if that’s the case, we’ll need to change his medication plan.”

“I have considered that, yes.” Minseok replies, “But BPD is hard to diagnose. Continue the current treatment plan until I can make a proper decision, and we’ll go from there.”  
Junmyeon nods. “Now, what are we going to do with you?” He says to Kyungsoo, “Because this is far more extreme than we had imagined.”

“I will accept your decision, no matter what it may be.” He says softly. Baekhyun places a comforting hand on his knee. 

“The patient has claimed, on record, that a nurse at our hospital was a factor in the attempt to take his own life.” Minseok starts solemnly, “Usually, I would call for immediate dismissal of the staff member in question.”

Kyungsoo inhales sharply, and Baekhyun reaches over to pull his friend into a hug.

“Usually?” Prompts Junmyeon, “Do you have an alternate plan of action, then?”

“If BPD is a consideration, then the statement could be an over-reaction or an act of attention seeking.” Minseok says calmly, “If not, then there’s a chance that prolonged exposure to Kyungsoo will prove beneficial to the patient.”

“What do you mean?” Asks Kyungsoo, “When he was admitted I was told to stay away from him.”

“If a patient has issues with a person, such as a family member, it is common to have that person sit in on an appointment.” Starts Minseok, “Controlled interactions mediated by a mental health professional can help speed along the healing process.”

“So you want me to attend Jongin’s sessions?” Kyungsoo asks curiously, fiddling with the hem of his cardigan. The idea of airing his dirty laundry in front of a superior is daunting, but if it will help Jongin’s treatment, then so be it. “I can do that.”

“No.” Minseok states firmly. “Honestly, I think that wouldn’t do any good. You have to prove to him that people can be trusted with his emotions.”

“And how will I do that?” Kyungsoo starts, “He has it set in his mind that I’m the bad guy.”

“You _are_ the bad guy, Kyungsoo.” Minseok retorts, gaze icy. “But you need to make up for that.”

“So what’s the plan, then?” Interjects Junmyeon, “If he’s not going to sit in on the patient’s sessions, then what is he going to do?”

“Simple. Kyungsoo will be Jongin’s nurse from now on.” Minseok states plainly.

“That’s a terrible idea.” Baekhyun says, “He reacts badly at the mere sight of Kyungsoo. And he hates taking his medication. Not to mention, he’s very grumpy in the morning! For Kyungsoo to wake him up and hand him his meds, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Jongin also needs to stop throwing tantrums and running away from his problems.” Minseok says, “We can’t keep pandering to his every whim.”

“We’ll give it a trial run.” Junmyeon says thoughtfully, “One week. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll have to think of something else.”

“If it doesn’t work out, then Jongin will have to be sent to _Our Ladies._ ” Minseok sighs, “Kyungsoo is a valuable employee, and it’s easier to transfer a patient than it is to hire new staff.”

“The psych ward at _Our Ladies_ is brutal!” Cries Kyungsoo, “He’s not severe enough to be sent there! If he’s transferred, his condition will get worse, not better.”

“I’m aware.” Replies Minseok cooly as he stands, “Jongin’s fate is completely in your hands, Kyungsoo.”

\------

The wooden benches in the smoker’s courtyard aren’t nearly as comfortable as Chanyeol makes them out to be, Tao decides, as he squirms on the uncomfortably hard slats. His mind is a foggy haze; a post-ECT side-effect that he’s slowly becoming used to. 

“I hate ECT.” He whines, as Sehun sits down beside him, equally as dazed. Just because he’s grown more accustomed to the feeling, doesn’t mean that he’s fond of it. “I’m manic and fuzzy, everything is weird and I don’t like it.”

“You say that like I enjoy getting my brain fried.” Comes Sehun’s muttered reply as he fumbles around for his cigarettes. “Why are you out here if you’re not even smoking?” 

“‘m waiting for you.” Tao replies sleepily, before sitting upright. He looks unbearably cute; still pyjama clad and messy haired. Some of the strands still stick to the ECT goop on his forehead. 

Sehun finds himself smiling softly. 

“You were asleep and I wanted a hug.”

“You usually sneak into my bed anyway,” Sehun says, wiping the goopy hair away from Tao’s eyes, “What stopped you this time.”

“Baekhyun told me off. Said that the beds weren’t made for two people and that the added weight could break the motors.” Sehun doesn’t mention that he’s already broken his bed. In a fit of boredom he’d spent fifteen minutes playing with the buttons, raising and lowering the mattress in rapid succession. After a while, the bed made a disconcerting noise and wouldn’t move again.

“Fuck Baekhyun,” He says, exhaling a stream of smoke, “He’s no fun anymore.”

“Nurses are never fun.” Tao huffs, rearranging himself and resting his head on Sehun’s shoulder.

“I resent that.” Says a voice from the door. The two turn, spotting Jongdae at the entrance to the courtyard, Visuals Board in hand. “We nurses are very fun.”

“You dress like an accountant.” Tao says, raising an eyebrow, “Someone with that many collared shirts is unlikely to be the heart of the party.”

“These are my work clothes.” Retorts Jongdae. He’s not even looking at the patients, dragging the tip of his pen along the board, locating their names and ticking them off.

“Baekhyun’s work clothes are far more casual.” Tao pushes his point, gesturing in the general direction of the nurse’s staffroom. “So you can’t tell me that you have a dress code.”

“Baekhyun dresses like a patient.” Snarks Jongdae, “No offense.” 

“None taken.” Sehun mutters, lighting a new cigarette. 

“You should dress normal one day.” Tao says, words still slurring from the ECT, but noticeably more brighter, “You’d look ten times hotter in a pair of jeans.”

“My wife thinks I look sexy in my work clothes.” Jongdae frowns. 

“Your wife is humoring you.” Tao pokes his tongue out. Sehun groans in annoyance. 

“Let’s make a deal,” Tao continues, “If you turn up to work in normal clothes, and get compliments on your appearance, then you pull some strings to get me some hair dye.” 

“No deal.” Jongdae brings his arms into an ‘X’ position, nearly hitting himself in the face with the board in the process, “We all know what happened last time you were given hair dye privileges in hospital.”

“I spent all day giving out $300 makeovers for free to both nurses and patients, lifting people’s spirits and making everyone look hot.” Tao sniffs, “You’re welcome.”

“Tao, you left dye stains in a grand total of _five_ bathroom sinks.” Jongdae replies, exasperated, “The cleaning staff were out for blood.”

“I was wondering what those weird brown stains on my sink were.” Mutters Sehun. Tao giggles in response.

“Prices must be paid for beauty, Jongdae.” Tao says flippantly. 

“The answer is _no_ , Tao.” Says Jongdae firmly. 

Baekhyun’s head pokes through the doorway, eyebrow raised. “What insane request are we denying this time?”

Jongdae turns to his fellow nurse with a sigh. “Tao wants to dye people’s hair again.” 

Baekhyun’s following laugh is high pitched and wheezing, and he grasps the door frame to keep himself upright. 

“I remember the fallout from last time,” He says as he recovers, “But I need my roots done. I’ll see if I can pull some strings.” 

He winks at Tao, who smiles brightly. 

“Baekhyun!” Jongdae screeches, “Don’t encourage him.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Baekhyun says lightly. “I’ll make it a day program, get people to sign up for it and see if we can hijack the laundry. It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so…” Jongdae says, unconvinced. 

“I’ll get my apprentice in.” Tao supplies, “He needs practice. Call it ‘Community Service’ or something.”

“Excellent!” Baekhyun cries, overjoyed. “I’ll run it past Junmyeon and organize it as soon as I can.”

“This is ridiculous.” Jongdae says, shaking his head. “I’m out, see you guys later.” 

He exits the courtyard, resuming his rounds. Baekhyun, however, stays; squinting as he searches for something. 

“Have you seen Jongin?” He asks lightly, “That’s what I came out here for, originally. Minseok is looking for him.”

Sehun shrugs. “I dunno. I haven’t seen him today.” 

“Not at all?” 

“He was asleep when I went off to ECT, and he was gone when I came back.” He shrugs again. “Maybe try the front courtyard? He’s been spending heaps of time there recently.”

“Right.” Baekhyun frowns. Anti-Social behaviour is a warning sign, he’ll have to notify Minseok. “I’ll take a look.”

“Good luck.” Sehun says, “He’s been in a foul mood since yesterday.” 

“Noted.” He nods softly, heading through the door and leaving the patients in peace. 

“You’ll let me dye your hair, won’t you Sehun?” Tao asks, after Baekhyun leaves, fluttering his eyelashes. 

Sehun snorts as he reaches for another cigarette. “Not a chance.”

\------  
Yixing is trying very hard to sleep, but it’s very hard to drift off when there’s _two_ pairs of eyes staring at them.

“What do you want,” They mutter, “I mean, I know what he wants, but what do _you_ want?” 

“I… who are you talking to?” Kris asks, fiddling with the sheets on his bed, “Me or…?” 

“You.” Yixing says roughly. “What do you want?”

“I want to know if you’re okay?” He says, tone of his voice uneasy. 

“Fucking peachy.” They reply sarcastically, “Just had my brain fried, why wouldn’t I be feeling great?” 

In the corner, the little boy laughs; pale hands cupping around stark white lips to stifle a high pitched giggle. Yixing groans. 

“He won’t shut up when you’re around.” Yixing says flatly. “He _likes_ you. I have no idea why.” 

“What do you mean he likes me?” Kris asks, confused. “He’s your psychosis, shouldn’t he hate me?”

“My psychosis isn’t me, Kris.” They reply tiredly. “It’s part of my disease.”

Yixing raises their head, fixing their eyes on their roommate. They open their mouth to continue, but sudden movement catches their attention;   
the boy, usually motionless, starts to walk. He shuffles slowly, bare feet sliding silently along the carpet, eyes unblinking as he moves towards Kris.

Yixing stares on in shock. The boy continues his path, eventually finding himself standing in front of him, obscuring Yixing’s view.

“He’s done this before.” Yixing says quietly. The boy reaches his hand up, running it through Kris fringe. “Whenever it happens, I get so angry.”

“What’s he doing?” Kris asks in alarm.

“He’s touching you.” They reply. “He’s touching you, and you can’t feel a thing.” 

Kris shudders violently, scrambling backwards along his bed in haste to get away from the boy. “Oh God.” He says, rubbing at his arms, “That’s terrifying.” 

“When he touches me, I can feel it.” Yixing continues. “He can appear at any time. I can feel his presence, even if I can’t see him. I’m never alone.” 

“That’s…. awful. I’m sorry.” Kris says quietly, “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

“I don’t need your sympathy, and I don’t need your help.” Yixing snaps. “Let me sleep, please.”

They roll over in their bed, facing the wall; away from Kris, away from the little boy.

“Both of you, just go away.”  
\------

Kim Jongin is a pathetic excuse for a human being.

It’s not the depression talking, it’s pure fact. Anyone who spends extended periods of time with him will tell you the same thing; that he’s a worthless waste of space. Selfish. Unmotivated. 

_Useless._

Kim Jongin can’t hold a steady job or relationship. He’s not sure if he pushes people away, or if his personality and issues act as a repellant, but those who stay by his side rarely do so willingly; his parents, his siblings and Taemin -- they’re all bound by some sort of obligation to tolerate his existence. 

He’s in hospital to get better, but he’s getting worse. So much worse. He looks around him and sees that the other patients have all been in Theta before. 

He’ll be back again, he knows it. He’ll never get better, this thing that he has, this illness, it will follow him to the grave or put him in it. Jongin is certain of that. 

Kim Jongin is suicidal again. 

He hates himself. 

He’s depressed, he’s angry and he’s chain smoking until he gags; lightheaded and nauseous from the abundance of nicotine in his system. 

A toxic habit for a toxic human.

Maybe Jongin will keep the habit when he’s discharged; a lot of people don’t like to date smokers. He can blame the taste of ash in his mouth or the smell of tobacco on his clothes and fingers for their cold departures. 

He’ll hide behind a tobacco scented smokescreen, pretending that it’s his addiction, not his very being that pushes people away. 

But deep down inside he’ll know.

He’ll ignore it. 

Deeper down he’ll know there’s another reason too, one that he refuses to acknowledge, one thing he’s tried so hard to forget. 

Kim Jongin is still hopelessly in love with Do Kyungsoo.

And that’s why he hates himself most of all.

\------

“Do your psych textbooks have any advice on being a better person?” Kris asks sincerely, looking Minseok dead in the eye, “Because I’m apparently an asshole, and I should work on that.”

“Your abrasive personality is part of the PTSD.” Minseok replies with a slight smile, “So working on that would probably help.”

“We’re making no progress though. I’m still the same as when I got here.” He retorts angrily, gripping the arms of his chair in frustration. It’s been over a week in hospital, he’s had countless sessions with Minseok, with support groups for other PTSD sufferers. Nothing has changed.

“Progress takes time.” The psychologist answers gently. “You can’t expect results in a week.”

“I was told this place would fix me. I’m not being fixed, I’m being pumped full of chemicals and poisons and told that they’re working.” Antidepressants, Antipsychotics, sleeping medication. Kris doesn’t want to be a shell of a human, emotions created by a handful of multi-coloured pills.

“There may come a time in your life when you no longer need your medication,” Minseok starts, looking at Kris with pity?? Kris doesn’t need pity. “But for now, they’re a necessary evil.”

“Why?” Kris demands, “Why do I have to take them?” 

“You’re using a cane until your knee heals, correct?” He asks, and Kris nods in affirmation, “Then see the medication in the same light. You need them to hold you up while you heal.” 

Minseok sighs, “If you’re unhappy with your medication, then you need to talk to Junmyeon. I’m the feelings doc, not the meds one.” He offers a small grin, “So lets talk feelings.”

“I feel like shit.” Kris deadpans.

“If you were feeling well, I’d have you discharged.” Minseok jokes, flicking through Kris’ file. Moody. Angry. Problems with his roommate. “So I’m going to need more information.”

“Night terrors are getting worse.” He elaborates. “I keep seeing the kids in my dreams.” 

“No flashbacks while awake?” Minseok probes, writing notes in Kris’ file as he talks. 

“Not since the last one I had with you.” 

“Are there any outside sources that could be contributing to your lack of progress?” Asks Minseok, careful with his wording. The patients don’t know that their every move is documented on his files, and the arguments between he and his roommate have not gone unnoticed. 

“My rooming situation is… tense.” Kris says cautiously. “I made a bad first impression, and I’m trying to make it better but he --they-- aren’t responding well. It’s uncomfortable when we’re alone together.” 

“Is that why you asked about improving your personality?” Minseok asks in amusement. 

“I-- yeah.” He replies sheepishly. “I just want them to like me.”

“Oh?” Minseok smiles. “There’s nothing in my textbook that can help you, unfortunately.”

Kris’ face falls. 

“But,” The psychologist continues, “I can give you some advice. Just be genuine. If they don’t like you, they don’t like you. But being nice? Sometimes people will warm up to that, even if there was a bad first impression.”

“Thanks doc.” Kris says with a small smile, “I’ll try that.”

\------

“Get off me oh my God!” Sehun’s got a fresh cup of coffee in his hand when Tao decides to sit in his lap. Since his little discussion with Jongin, all Sehun can think about is Tao. Tao’s smile. Tao’s laugh. Tao’s ass. Tao’s ass that is currently planted firmly on his dick. 

“Why? All the other seats are taken.” He wheezes gesturing towards the completely empty courtyard. 

“There is _literally_ no one here. You could sit anywhere you want.” Sehun tries not to spill the scalding liquid on himself. At this point he doesn’t really care about Tao; he’s eliciting some serious dick torture, and Sehun thinks that a ruined shirt and a second degree burn would be proper revenge. 

“Ignore him. He’s gone manic again” Says Luhan, making his way towards his usual seat, Yixing in tow. They’re wearing jeans today, a T-shirt and hair in a messy bun. They’re still vaguely androgynous but it’s more on the masculine side of the spectrum. 

Sehun raises an eyebrow. 

Yixing just shrugs. 

“Tao was depressed just this morning.” Says Sehun, trying (and failing) to move a wiggling Tao off his lap, “He used me as his personal tissue box. Wanted to talk about feelings. I don’t do feelings.” 

“You did feelings with Jongin. He’s very grateful, apparently.” Yixing replies knowingly. Eyes lighting up. Sehun’s not sure if it’s the fact that Yixing has dirt on him or the flicker of the lighter that’s making their eyes shine like that. 

“Jongin is my roommate and not six foot something of giant man-child.” says Sehun “Jesus Christ Tao could you stop squishing my dick for like, one second?” 

“It’s not my fault your dick is uncomfortable.” Tao says with a huff, still moving. Sehun gives up on holding his coffee, placing on the seat next to him instead and hoping that Tao’s excessively long limbs don’t knock it over.

“Someone get him some Valium, fuck.” Sehun groans. “I need my dick.” 

“Tao needs your dick too, apparently.” Yixing snickers. Tao nods in agreement. Sehun chokes. 

“Ahh mania,” says Luhan fondly. “Infinite creativity, infinite sex drive, spend your life savings!” 

“Hallucinations. Paranoia. Dangerous behaviour.” Yixing stares pointedly at Luhan. “There’s good and bad parts about mania. Tao’s euphoric at the moment, but he’ll get super scared, eventually.” 

“Happens to him every time.” Luhan nods, sipping at his tea. 

“I… yeah that is true. But like, today I’m more excited than usual, you know?” Sehun has a hard time keeping up with the excessively fast speech pouring from Tao’s mouth, especially when he starts babbling in Mandarin.

“I’m gonna go get Jongdae,” says Yixing, “God knows he won’t do it himself.” They stand up, walking towards the door. 

“I’ll send him out, then I’ll sleep for like, a month.” They offer a two fingered salute as they leave. 

“See you guys around.” 

“Are they are okay?” Sehun asks, finally managing to shift Tao from his lap. His coffee is spilt in the process. Sehun stares at the empty cup dejectedly. 

“I don’t think they slept too well,” Luhan replies. He watches his friend leave with concern, “I think their psychosis is playing up again.”

“Poor thing.” Mutters Tao. Sehun nods in agreement.

\------

 _Be nice be nice be nice._ Kris thinks to himself. He’s _tried_ to be nice before, but it hasn’t really worked. 

Yixing has just assumed that his concern is some kind of warped and subconscious craving to return to army life; that the attempts he’s made in forming a bond is some kind throwback to the military. 

It’s not though. Kris is just trying to get Yixing to like him. 

“You look nice today!” Kris splutters as his roommate walks through the door. Yixing looks drowsy, obviously under the effects of some sort of PRN; Seroquel or Saphris, maybe. 

“What,” Spits Yixing as they stumble towards the bed, “Is it because I look like a boy?”

“No I--” Kris starts. He’s made a mistake and he knows it.

“You think I look good because I look _male_.” Yixing says, faceplanting onto their bed. “Fuck off.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” Kris says softly, averting his gaze.

“Then what did you mean?” His roommate fixes him with a harsh glare. Kris stays silent, unsure how to reply. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 

They seem too lethargic to close their curtains, so Kris stands up and does it for them. Yixing just grunts; in thanks or annoyance for having to rely on him, Kris isn’t sure. 

“Sleep well.” He says. 

Yixing doesn’t respond.

 

\------

Jongin dreams. 

Or so he thinks. _Am I dreaming?_ he wonders, the situations are mundane, everyday things. But there’s an air of wonder about them. Is this reality? 

He’s at the local shopping mall with Taemin. They’re both laughing at something Taemin has said. 

Jongin has no idea how he got there; the last thing he remembers is talking to Minseok, discussing his past, his insecurities, Kyungsoo-

 _Kyungsoo._

The dream changes, there’s hands in his hair and pulling at his clothes; they try and rip the blankets from his body, hitting his chest. 

Jongin wakes with a start. 

It was all a Seroquel dream. 

None of it was real.


	12. Day Eleven: Group Dynamics.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Group Dynamics:**   
>  _The study of how group processes change individual functioning._

_A warm bed, filled with two even warmer bodies. Entwined._

_Kyungsoo always hated being the little spoon, but in the end he would wake up wrapped in his boyfriend’s long limbs. Jongin would always end up changing their sleeping positions at night in order to hold onto Kyungsoo. Like he was clinging to him for dear life, like he never wanted to let go of him._

_Jongin would wake to the smell of Kyungsoo’s hair; something pleasant smelling -- though not too overpowering. Something without a solid, defining scent. Florals and herbals were far too cliche for a man like Kyungsoo. He smelt clean, fresh. Wonderful. Sometimes Jongin would spray Kyungsoo’s cologne on his clothes, just so the scent would linger when he left._

Right now, it smells like disinfectant and starch. It’s not as warm. The hospital blankets aren’t quite enough to protect him from the harsh cold of the air-conditioning system. 

_Good morning, Jongin._ Kyungsoo would say, and he would snuggle back into Jongin’s body; running his hands down his boyfriend’s arms, stroking at his hands, playing with his fingers. Jongin was so in love. 

“Good morning, Jongin.” Kyungsoo says. Jongin snuggles deeper into his blanket, searching for the warmth it’s unable to provide. “It’s time to wake up.”

“Mmm ‘morning ‘Soo.” Jongin rubs his face lightly against his pillow; it’s too hard, the cotton covers too coarse. “Kyungsoo!?” 

He bolts upwards in alarm. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks, loudly, yet quiet enough not to awaken Sehun. His roommate sleeps soundly on the other side of the curtain, unaware. “You’re not supposed to be my nurse.” He hisses. 

“From today onwards I’ll be your nurse.” Kyungsoo says with that beautiful smile Jongin used to adore, “So I’ve brought you meds in bed!”

His smile grows wider and tone cheerier with his little rhyme. Jongin is blinded. Jongin is angry at himself for being so affected. 

“I don’t want any meds from you.” Jongin snarls quietly. “Tell the psychs I don’t want you as my nurse.”

“That’s the thing, Jongin.” Kyungsoo replies, “This _was_ the psych’s idea. So take your meds.”

He shakes the small paper cup at Jongin, still smiling brightly. 

“Take your fucking pills Jongin.” Sehun mumbles from his bed, “Or argue outside. It’s too early for this shit.” 

“Fine.” Jongin spits, taking the paper cups from Kyungsoo roughly. 

Water spills onto the bed. 

He swallows the medication, washing the pills down with the rest of the water and all but throws the cups at Kyungsoo’s face when he finishes. 

With a huff, Jongin takes his cigarettes and leaves a speechless Kyungsoo standing at the foot of Jongin’s hospital bed. 

“Well, that went well.” Sehun mutters. 

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.” Is Kyungsoo’s reply.

\------

“Don’t touch me.” Tao mutters as Chanyeol tries to sling an arm around his shoulder. The appendage is retracted almost immediately. 

“You’re usually so touchy-feely,” Chanyeol replies in concern, “What’s up with you today?”

“I just don’t want to be touched.” He deadpans, standing up and moving to the furthest bench in the smoker’s courtyard. 

“You wanna talk about what’s up?” Replies the other patient, “Sometimes we’re better shrinks than the shrinks themselves.”

“I don’t want to talk.” Tao twitches violently, sporadically jerking increasing in frequency and ferocity as Chanyeol watches on in concern. His hands fly to his hair, tugging violently and pushing his palms into his forehead. 

“Help me.” Tao rasps breathlessly to Chanyeol. “Go get a nurse.” 

His shaking reaches a peak as Tao begins to full on convulse, standing upwards on shaking legs and in a moment of maniacy, begins to upturn the furniture in the courtyard.

He screams loudly; high pitched and wailing, pushing over the benches and tables. He spills the ash and spent cigarette butts onto the floor, smashing the glass ones against the brick wall. 

But as soon as it’s started, it’s over. Tao collapses in a heap, sobbing and shaking. Unable to move. 

Chanyeol, who had fled to the corner of the courtyard during the entire ordeal, steps forward cautiously. 

“Can I touch you now?” He asks quietly, “I can take you back to your room and find a nurse.”

“Yeah.” Tao sniffles softly. “Maybe a hug would be nice too.” 

\------

The dress is stunning. _Tres fashion!_ as Tao would exclaim, gesturing towards the garment wildly. 

Yixing loves it. The way it clings to their body, the softness of the fabric. It’s a simple cotton/nylon blend in the current style; straight cut with a split seam at the leg to allow for movement. The thick horizontal stripes in black and white accentuate their slight curves. 

Androgyny at its finest. 

Yixing looks wonderful. 

It’s one of their ‘Look Good Feel Better’ days; one where they feel like shit but dress well to boost their self-esteem, living off the compliments of others to contradict the voices in their own head. 

But it’s not the only reason, they won’t lie to themselves. They want to dress this way to get back at Kris.

It’s horribly vindictive, but not unlike Yixing. They have a history of purposely aggravating bigots, it’s not their fault that others can’t wrap their mind around Yixing and their very being. That they can’t deal with new things; that they’re so afraid of the different and the unknown that they react with anger. 

In these situations it proves to Yixing, it proves to everyone that they aren’t the ones that are wrong. It proves that Yixing and their identity, their existence, it’s all valid. It’s natural. It’s right.

Nevertheless; today, Yixing looks amazing. And they know it. They’ve even worn makeup, their kit with them only for days when they have leave. 

They’ve gone all out. 

They want to push Kris to the brink, to draw out his anger, to finally have a reason to confront him once and for all.

“You look incredible.” Kris splutters as Yixing exits the bathroom, eyes wide, staring in awe. 

Yixing is taken aback for a moment. That’s hardly the reaction they’d expected.

“No, seriously. I mean it.” Kris scrambles, “I mean, wow. Yeah, You look great.” 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” Yixing says, vulnerable. You throw slurs, you’re obviously uncomfortable with me, yet you compliment me. “What’s your deal?”

“I’m just trying to tell the truth.” Kris answers softly. 

“So the slurs were truth, then?” They reply sternly, cocking their hip. 

“I’m sorry about those. I just…. had a lot on my plate.” Kris makes his way towards Yixing, but they side-step away from him, moving to place their towel and toiletries on to their bed.

“Sorry isn’t good enough. Those words hurt more than you could ever understand.”

Kris tries to place his hand on Yixing’s shoulder, a tender touch, a gentle gesture. Yixing jerks away from his hand, quickly creating distance between the two.

“Don’t touch me.” They say to him, before going about their business once more. 

“I’m honestly so sorry. How can I make it up to you?” He tries again, voice desperate. “Can we start again from the beginning, or something?” 

“I---” Yixing starts, running their hand through their hair and sighing in defeat. “Fine. I still don’t get what your deal is, but it’s probably better for both of us if this rooming situation is less awkward.”

“Exactly what I thought.” 

The two stand in an awkward silence for a moment, before Kris steps closer to Yixing again; this time with arms spread wide for a hug.

He’s denied again, Yixing ducking under the appendages at the last moment.

“What the fuck are you trying to do?” They ask in disbelief, staring wide eyed at their roommate.

“I..uh...noticed you’re a touchy-feeley person and thought you might like a hug?” He replies awkwardly, arms still stretched.

“I am, but with people I _like_ ,” They emphasise with a raised eyebrow, “You don’t go from mortal enemy to cuddle buddy after a simple apology with confusing intent.”

“Then what---?” Kris starts, but he’s interrupted when Yixing extends their hand. 

“You want touchy-feely Yixing? Start with this.” They waggle the fingers on their offered hand as Kris stares for a moment, before he takes it firmly, shaking once.

Their arms drop awkwardly by their sides as the two are enveloped in a tense atmosphere once again. 

“So… what now?” Kris asks uncertainly as Yixing moves towards his bedside table.

“I don’t know about you,” Yixing says, rummaging through the drawer for their tobacco pouch, holding it up for Kris to see, “But I could go for a smoke right now.”

They move towards the door before turning back to look at Kris. “Coming?”

Kris pats himself down, locating his box of cigarettes in his back pocket. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

 

The two walk to the courtyard in a comfortable silence; weaving their way through white corridors and greeting nurses and fellow patients as they see fit.

“By the way,” Kris says as Yixing opens the door to the courtyard, “I meant what I said. You look good today.”

Yixing offers him a small smile.

“Thanks.”

\------

“Tao had an attack.” Jongdae says to Junmyeon as he exits his office. “We don’t know what happened but he needs an emergency appointment.” 

“Oh no. Slip him in somewhere between Jongin and Luhan.” Junmyeon says offhandedly. 

“He destroyed the courtyard. He needs to be seen now.” Jongdae pushes. “He’s my patient today, I’ve given him 20mg of Valium and 25mg of Seroquel but he’s still up. I can’t get him to calm down.” 

“Oh. Get him to me now.” Junmyeon says stiffly. “Push Jongin’s appointment back, God knows he’ll be happy about that.” 

 

Tao is still shaking as he sits in the chair in Junmyeon’s office. 

“So, what happened?” Junmyeon asks gently. Tao is looking everywhere in the room but at the psychologist. 

“I just had… so many emotions. I was so depressed and so…. I dunno? I felt like I was a puppet. And I was shaking. Then I got really mad.” Tao shrugs. 

“And so you destroyed the courtyard?” Junmyeon raises an eyebrow.

“I couldn’t control it. But I am really sorry.” He says with sincerity. 

“It’s fine. You just upturned a few things. Nothing that can’t be fixed.” Junmyeon waves his hand flippantly. “But we do need to address what happened.”

“This happens sometimes, but I don’t know what it is.” He replies. 

“It’s not a Mixed Episode. You’re Type Two Bipolar, you don’t get those.” Junmyeon hums. “It was probably a panic attack. There are other patients here who experience similar ones.”

“Like Luhan?” Tao asks.

“I’m not really allowed to mention names, but yes, like Luhan.” Junmyeon smiles. 

“So what do we do?” Tao asks, he’s still shaking, but the distraction is calming him down. 

“I’m going to put you on some new antidepressants; ones that are good anxiety suppressants. I’ll also increase your ECT period. There’s not much we can do but experiment and hope for the best.” He replies, Doctor-Voice on.

“I’m sorry, Tao.” He says after a moment, quiet, calm. 

“It’s okay, Doc. You’re trying.” He smiles sadly.

\------

“Our little circle doesn’t feel as complete without Jongin and Tao.” Luhan says sadly. “We have no one to bully.”

“You bully me relentlessly.” Sehun deadpans. 

“I do not!” Cries Luhan, offended. “Sehun my darling you are the most precious to me~”

He climbs into his lap, giggling uncontrollably into Sehun’s neck. 

“Stop it,” He wheezes out, “Cut it out, Luhan, that tickles.” He tries to push the squirming man from his lap but to no avail.

Sehun resigns himself to his fate, but not before he steals a menthol from Luhan’s box, popping the capsule obnoxiously when he sees Luhan’s offended expression.

“Jesus, is Luhan going manic again?” Chanyeol comments as he enters the courtyard, Kris in tow, both patients holding cups of coffee. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Sehun says, now seemingly at peace with the writhing occupant of his lap, “He mentioned going on new anti-d’s a few days ago. You know what that does to the bipolars.”

“MANIA IS THE BEST!” Luhan screeches loudly.

Everyone in the courtyard flinches in unison. 

“No seriously,” He continues, stealing the cigarette from Sehun’s mouth and taking a drag, ignoring the loud ‘hey’ he shouts in protest, “I’m high on my own fucking brain chemicals. It’s great.”

“You’re high on SSRI’s.” Chanyeol counters, lighting up his own smoke with a laugh. “That doesn’t happen to anyone man, you’re blessed.”

“What’s an SSRI?” Kris asks, accepting the lighter Chanyeol hands him. It looks suspiciously like the one he lost a few days ago.

“I keep forgetting you’re new here.” Chanyeol says through a plume of smoke. 

“Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor. SSRI.” Sehun informs Kris, stealing yet another of Luhan’s cigarettes. The other patient is too enthralled by a nearby beetle to notice.

“That means shit to me.” Kris says plainly, “In normal people speak, please?”

“Heavy duty antidepressant. Used for hardcore depression and sometimes anxiety.” Sehun explains again, “I’m on the max dosage for two of them.”

“Luvox, Lexapro, Paxil, Zoloft…” Chanyeol trails off, “Ringing any bells?” 

“Paxil. That’s what I’m on.” Kris says.

“SSRI.” Sehun says. “Tried that. Didn’t work.”

“Zoloft is my friend!” Luhan exclaims brightly, still staring at the beetle. 

“It really isn’t.” Sehun deadpans, while Kris and Chanyeol laugh. 

“Where’s Nini?” Luhan whines, now apparently uninterested in the insect, shaking Sehun by his collar. “I want my Nini!”

“Who or what is a Nini?” He asks, trying to pry Luhan’s hands from his shirt. 

“Jongin! Nini!” Luhan explains with a giggle. 

“I really hate him when he’s like this.” Sehun mutters. 

“What are you talking about?” Chanyeol asks with a grin, “Manic Luhan is awesome. I’m totally stealing the Nini nickname.”

“I want to talk to Nini about Kyungsoo’s dick.” Luhan continues. “I want to know how big it is!” 

“Oh Jesus Christ, no.” Sehun groans. Chanyeol appears to be unable to breathe due to laughter. Kris looks uncomfortable. 

“Bigger than you’d expect.” He says quietly. All heads snap towards him. Luhan scrambles onto Kris’ lap instead.

“Tell me everything you know.” He says seriously, running his hands through Kris’ hair as he straddles him. To Kris’ credit, he doesn’t look half as uncomfortable as he feels. 

“I’ve uh,” He coughs, “Had a few chats with Jongin?”

“And?” Luhan prompts, smoothing Kris’ bangs back into place, “Tell me everything, Mr. Army Man.” 

“Is he trying to seduce the information out of me?” He asks the others over Luhan’s shoulder as the man in his lap starts to run his hands across Kris’ neck and chest. 

“Yes.” Replies Luhan.

“Is it working?” Sehun asks with a barely repressed laugh. Chanyeol actually has stopped breathing due to laughter, the tall patient having abandoned his half smoked cigarette in favor of shaking uncontrollably on the ground. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Kris whips his head towards the door to see an amused Yixing standing there; tea in hand, eyebrow raised and barely suppressing laughter.

“Yes.” Says Luhan plainly, at the same time Kris garbled out an uncomfortable “No!” 

“You have information I want.” Luhan whispers in Kris’ ear, switching to Mandarin. “Give it to me now.” 

“That’s all I know, I promise!” Kris all but squeaks.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Yixing says, sitting down next to Kris and pulling Luhan onto their own lap. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“Thank you.” Kris wheezes as the weight is lifted from him. 

Sehun finishes checking the pulse of a still laughing Chanyeol to observe the interaction. 

“What’s the deal with you two?” He asks, gesturing between Yixing and Kris with an unlit cigarette. “I thought you’d like watching Kris suffer.” 

“We’re starting over.” Yixing replies simply, trying to roll a smoke while Luhan rocks them back and forth, still muttering about ‘his Nini’. 

“Friendship, love, affection and all that shit, right?” Sehun asks, and Chanyeol finally recovers from his laughing fit, returning to his half-smoked cigarette. 

“Something like that.” Yixing says. Luhan stands up and begins pacing around the courtyard, muttering quickly under his breath. 

“Yixing you absolute babe!” Chanyeol exclaims as he finally takes in their appearance. “Stop looking so hot before you give your father a heart attack.”

“Okay daddy.” They reply with a wink. Chanyeol clutches both hands to his chest, nearly burning himself in the process. “Plus, Kris already told me I look good.” 

The entire courtyard turns to look at him again. Yixing continues to roll their smoke with a smug grin. 

“What?” Chanyeol screeches, “Keep your abnormally large hands off my innocent child!” 

“Yixing is hardly _innocent._ ” Sehun points out. 

“Well yes but-- OH MY GOD LUHAN GET DOWN FROM THERE!” Chanyeol yells, and Luhan looks down from the roof with an innocent face.

“Who me?” He points to himself. 

“Yes, oh my God why are you on the roof?” Chanyeol replies frantically. 

Sehun puts his cigarette out with a sigh.

“I’m up here trying to find that bug. I named him Edgar.” Luhan says brightly, half in Mandarin. 

“I’ll go find a nurse.” Sehun says. “It’s Seroquel time for Bug Boy, I think.” 

He hears the others frantically trying to talk Luhan down as he leaves the courtyard. 

Sehun breaks out into full on laughter as he walks down the corridor. 

\------

“So how are you today, Jongin?” Kyungsoo asks as he enters Jongin’s room. The patient is in his bed, reading. There’s two stacks of books sitting on his nightstand, one larger than the other. _Read_ and _Unread_ he presumes. 

A shriveled petal from a flower arrangement falls to the floor. Kyungsoo makes a note to get the cleaning staff to remove the dead bunch of flowers. 

“Fine. Reading.” Jongin replies shortly, eyes never leaving the pages of his book. 

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Kyungsoo asks using his Nurse-Voice.

Jongin looks up from his book with a raised eyebrow. “Not with you.” 

“Come on, Jongin.” He replies, pulling the guest’s chair next to Jongin’s bed and taking a seat. “I’m your nurse. You can talk to me about anything.” 

“Funny,” Jongin says, “I don’t think that’s going to work out all too well.”

“And why is that?” Kyungsoo prompts stubbornly. He takes in Jongin’s appearance; oily, messy hair. Same clothes he was in yesterday. Refusing to leave bed. 

His heart clenches at the familiarity. 

His heart breaks, too. 

“Everything I want to talk about right now involves tearing you a new one.” Jongin states plainly.

“Then do it.” Kyungsoo replies, staring him straight in the eyes. “Say what you want to say. Every word.” 

“You won’t be able to take it.” Jongin says. “I’ll be ruthless. I will tear you apart. I will make you question everything about yourself. I will break you down into tiny little pieces and then walk away without helping you pull yourself back together.”

“Oh, Jongin.” Kyungsoo says softly. “Is that what I did to you?” 

“No.” He hisses in reply, slamming his book shut. “No, you did much, much, worse. Whatever I have to say to you will never compare to what you did to me.” 

“Will it make you feel better?” Kyungsoo asks. “Destroying me, will that help you heal?”

“Is that what all this is about? Having you as my nurse? Some sort of _healing process?_ ” Jongin snarls. 

“Yes.” Kyungsoo says plainly. “I’m a sacrificial punching bag for you to get over your issues, and if I’m _broken_ in the process then so be it.” 

“Was that your idea?” 

“Minseok’s. I agreed.” 

“Oh how noble of you.” Jongin scoffs.

“I’m giving you a free pass, Jongin. A free hit. Take out all your frustrations on me.” Kyungsoo opens his arms wide, offers himself as a sacrifice. “So do it.”

“I’ll make you cry.” Jongin says. 

“You say that like I’m unaware. Why do you think I’m visiting you at the end of my shift?” He replies, lowering his arms. He rests his hands on his knees, clenching them into fists. 

Kyungsoo lowers his head. “So just do it, Jongin. I’m ready.”

“I don’t want you to cry, though.” He replies quietly. Kyungsoo’s head snaps up.

“What?” Kyungsoo says in disbelief, “You want to _destroy_ me but you don’t want to see me cry?”

“I don’t like making pretty boys cry.” Jongin replies, refusing to look at Kyungsoo.

“You’re still attracted to me?” Kyungsoo rasps out.

“I hate that you still look exactly the same. I hate that you’re still so goddamn beautiful after all this fucking time.” Jongin holds back tears. He holds back shame. Out of all the things he wants to tell Kyungsoo, all the words and thoughts and emotions threatening to spill out of his mouth, this is the first thing he says. 

Pathetic. 

“If it’s any consolation,” Kyungsoo starts, unsurely, “I also--”

“You what?” Jongin snaps, “You still find me attractive? Like this? Fucked up and depressed and scarred? Don’t bullshit me, Kyungsoo.”

“It’s true! God, Jongin you’re still so---” 

“You’re lying.” Jongin cuts him off. “What’s next? Going to tell me you’re still in love with me, too?” 

“Yes!” Kyungsoo cries, “I’ve never stopped.” 

The first tear makes its way down Jongin’s face. 

“Get out.” He says quietly. 

“Jongin, please just listen to me.” Kyungsoo begs desperately, trying to take Jongin’s hand in his own, only for Jongin to wrench it away. 

“I said GET OUT!” He screams, scrambling up from the bed and pointing to the door. Kyungsoo sees the tear tracks on Jongin’s face and the ones threatening to spill from his own eyes begin to cascade down his cheeks. 

Kyungsoo hiccups as he starts to sob. 

“No, don’t…. don’t do this to me.” Jongin says with a pained sob, “Don’t come in here, don’t tell me that.” 

He collapses forward onto the bed; breath coming in small hiccups as he cries uncontrollably. 

“You can’t do this to me, Kyungsoo.” Jongin wails through ragged sobs, “You can’t break me like this when I’m supposed to be breaking you.”

“You can’t break me like this, Jongin.” Kyungsoo sobs, “I’m already broken.” 

“That’s bullshit and cliche and you know it!” He yells, still crying. Jongin stands and makes his way towards Kyungsoo; he stands there, just watching him cry, head buried in his hands and small form shaking with repressed sobs. 

“How do you think it feels, seeing the man you love like this?” Kyungsoo asks. He doesn’t raise his head. He hides his tears in his hands. They flow down his wrists. “Knowing that you’ve destroyed the love of your life?” 

“I wouldn’t know.” Jongin replies coldly. “I’ve never loved someone before.” 

He leaves a crying Kyungsoo in his room as he makes his way towards the front courtyard, body a mess of emotions and thrumming with the need for nicotine.

Jongin lies to himself when he says he doesn’t love Kyungsoo.

Jongin lies to himself when he tells himself that the pained sob Kyungsoo makes at his words hurt more than his initial departure ever did.

Jongin lies to himself all the time. 

One more little lie can’t hurt.


	13. Day Twelve: Syndrome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Syndrome:**   
>  _A grouping of signs and symptoms into a recognizable pattern._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Today's T/W:** Discussion of suicide attempts, self harm, scars.
> 
> \------

If Byun Baekhyun were the whistling type, a joyful tune would surely be escaping his lips. However Byun Baekhyun is more of the humming type, choosing instead to mouth along to a popular track; nonsensical lyrics of the current ‘it’ girl group flying past his lips as he makes his way into the staff room.

“You seem happy.” One of the night nurses says, fixing him with a glare. “That’s not going to last long.”

“Why, what happened?” Baekhyun asks, still humming. He’s in a fantastic mood, and there aren’t many things that can dampen his spirit. 

“Luhan’s manic.” She replies tiredly, pulling her messy hair into a ponytail. There are dark circles under her eyes, she looks downright exhausted.

Baekhyun stops humming immediately. Blinking slowly as the information sinks in. “Oh.” 

_Manic Luhan_ sits just below _All Out Nuclear War_ on Baekhyun’s “List of Things That Ruins Good Moods.”

“What’s the damage?” Baekhyun is prepared for the worst. 

The night nurse -- a lovely Chinese woman by the name of Qian -- sighs in frustration, before regaling him with Luhan’s nightly activities. 

So far, Luhan’s manic spree has included:

1\. Ordering pizza to the hospital without express permission. He also had no money on his person, instead opting to wake Tao so that the younger (and his slightly fuller wallet) could pay.   
2\. Proceeding to eat said pizza with Tao at the reception, and not cleaning his mess. The entire area still smells of dough and marinara sauce.   
3\. Turning every sign in the hospital upside down, before drawing detailed pictures of male genitalia on the cafeteria doors in permanent marker.  
4\. Finally, he was caught in Yixing’s room. 

“You don’t want to know what was happening in Yixing’s room.” Qian utters, shuddering slightly. 

Baekhyun thinks back on Luhan’s return to Theta, and Yixing’s rather _enthusiastic_ greeting. 

“I’m pretty sure I can make an educated guess.” 

“He’s 900mg of Seroquel down and counting, and nothing is slowing him down.” She warns, “So I’m guessing you’re going to be in for a rough ride until Junmyeon fixes his medication.” 

“It’s Junmyeon’s day off today.” He replies quietly. The psychiatrist had written in Luhan’s case file that a change in medication had occurred, and that his mood may change as a result. Obviously, he hadn’t anticipated the patient to launch into what was clearly a hypomanic episode. 

Baekhyun will have to call Junmyeon on his day off to figure out a course of action; Fluvoxamine is clearly the incorrect medication for Luhan’s condition, but as a nurse, Baekhyun has no authority to change it. 

“You’re going to need to talk to Luhan and Yixing about their behavior,” Qian starts, cutting into Baekhyun’s thoughts, “I understand that Luhan is experiencing an elevated libido, and that Yixing is a physically affectionate person, but the hospital rules are clear.”

“Right.” Baekhyun agrees, “No relationships.”

“We can let it slide this time, as they have both assured me that it was all,” She pauses, clearing her throat and blushing slightly, “ _Physical_. However, rules are rules, and the cleaners aren’t really fond of cleaning up personal messes. If you understand.: 

“Completely.” 

“Well then, I’m off.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, looking tired and in need of a long rest. “Good luck, you’ll need it.”

 

\------

Two days ago, Tao tried to tell Chanyeol about a concert he went to, years ago. Formerly one of his fondest memories, he found himself struggling to recall the details. He had no idea which friend attended the concert with him, couldn’t remember the name of the opening act. He could make out vague, fuzzy details; the lead singer was hotter in real life, but not as tall as Tao imagined. The final song was something overplayed on the radio, a real summer hit. He can’t remember the words anymore, despite still having the song on the playlist for his salon. 

ECT memory loss is finally kicking in. 

Sometimes, Tao wonders if it’s worth it. He feels like shit, even on the days when he’s not receiving treatment; the after effects lingering, nausea never quite fading, limbs always a tad too heavy. 

But then one of Sehun’s arms tightens around his midsection, breath hitting the back of Tao’s neck while his other hand plays with Tao’s hair and yeah maybe it’s a little bit worth it. 

He can’t say for sure if the treatment is working for him, he still feels the buzz of mania beneath his skin; his brain feels almost itchy with overactivity, thoughts like a hive of bees in his head. But it’s not so bad as it was before. It’s shifting, ever so slightly, and that’s all the motivation Tao needs to continue. 

Cuddling with Sehun during the post-treatment haze is motivation, too, Tao thinks idly as he snuggles back into the other patient’s body heat. He has no idea how Sehun survives hospital with just the uniform blanket. During his first stay in Theta, Tao had bought a ridiculously expensive feather blanket in an equal fit of manic spending and dislike for the overactivity of the hospital’s air conditioning system. 

Maybe next time they can snuggle in Tao’s room, he muses, shivering slightly. He dips his fingertips under the hem of Sehun’s sleeve, searching for warmth against soft skin under layers of softer wool. 

“Don’t.” Sehun mumbles, drawing Tao’s hand away. The skin met with Tao’s fingers was jagged, and not nearly as smooth as he expected. 

“Sorry. Cold hands?” He replies, deciding instead to trace circles on the clothed wrist instead, trying to thaw his frozen fingertips with friction instead of body heat. 

“No… I just. Don’t like people touching my wrists.” Sehun says, taking Tao’s hand in his own, repositioning their laced fingers under the hem of Tao’s sweater, both of the appendages warming against Tao’s stomach. 

“Scars?” Tao asks sleepily, “I’ve got them too.”

“Not like mine.” Sehun says into Tao’s nape. It tickles. “I don’t have skin on my arm anymore. Just scars.” 

“Surely it’s not that bad.” He replies in disbelief. He’s seen his fair share of self harm scars, inflicted more upon himself. His own scars: methodical, straight, planned. Equal in length, depth, and an equal distance apart. Marks of grounding, an infliction of pain during times of severe emotional unbalance. Tao cut to feel something he could control, when everything else was in turmoil. The other scars he’d seen were less planned and more hysterical, like Luhan and Yixing. Their cuts formed pink and white cross hatches along flesh; a tick-tack-toe board of self-loathing along skin. 

Sehun sits up with a groan, pulling Tao into a sitting position, propped up on the headboard. With his arms free, Sehun pushes his left sleeve up to the elbow. “It’s worse.” 

And it is. Worse than anything Tao has ever seen before. Straight lines, jagged ones. Long, short. Cut upon cut. He spies a section of flesh that is indented instead of raised, like Sehun had cut a chunk of flesh from his own arm. Burn scars too, Tao takes Sehun’s hand and turns his arm over, noting the matching rectangular scars on the top and bottom of his forearm. 

“Hair straightener.” It’s a statement, not a question. He traces the pink burns and ridged scars with his fingers, the tips dipping slightly into the circular marks nearby. “Cigarette butt.” 

“I know they’re gross.” Sehun says softly.

“They’re not gross.” Tao replies, “At least, not to me.” 

“Sometimes, when I bring people home, I have to tell them I was in a car crash to make them stay.” Sehun admits, watching as Tao continues to explore his scars; memories of how they were made flashing behind his eyelids as the soft touches continue, “I have sex with the lights off so no one can see them.” 

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of these,” He would kiss every single scar on Sehun’s body if he could, tell him that he was beautiful. Sleep with him while the lights were on. “Do you think Kris is ashamed of his?” 

“That’s different. Kris took shrapnel to the knee. I did this to myself.” He replies, but Tao just shakes his head in disagreement. 

“They’re the same thing. Kris was at war. We’re at war with our own minds.” He says determinedly, “That’s what mental illness is. To me, at least. I’m at war with my head, and my scars are my battle wounds. They’re proof I’m alive, that I’m surviving.” 

He removes his hand from Sehun’s arm, and the other patient quickly pushes his sleeve down, once again hiding his scars.

“Don’t.” Tao says, pushing the fabric up once more, “There are so many statistics about people like us. We’re more likely to kill ourselves, be failures, live shit lives.”

Tao rolls up his own sleeves, presenting his own methodically placed scars to Sehun. “These are our _fuck you_ to the statistics. We suffer but we aren’t victims. We’re survivors.” 

“This is too much philosophy for my ECT brain to handle.” Sehun mutters, resuming his horizontal position on the mattress and pulling Tao with him before the other patient can think to complain. 

“You can keep telling me how awesome I am when we wake up.” He says into the skin of Tao’s neck, before joining their fingers together once more. 

\------

Kyungsoo has a very eager Jongin panting into his mouth.

It’s one of the rare days where the younger takes initiative, pinning Kyungsoo to the wall as he enters the apartment and kissing him with abandon. 

It’s such an uncommon occurrence that Kyungsoo lets him, previous fatigue forgotten momentarily as he drops his bag to the floor in order to wrap his arms around Jongin’s neck and threading his hands into Jongin’s hair, pulling slightly as he kisses back. 

“Taemin’s not home, don’t worry.” Jongin says in between sweet staccato kisses and lingering lips presses against the sensitive spots on Kyungsoo’s neck. 

He’s not worried. It’s not like Taemin hasn’t heard them before, choosing to make sly remarks and vulgar hand gestures the next morning over breakfast. It’s not like they haven’t heard Taemin and his girlfriend, either. They’re all adults in monogamous relationships; they know just what goes on behind closed doors. 

“I’m tired.” Kyungsoo mutters as Jongin drags him in the direction of his bedroom, “You better make this worth my while.”

“I’m offended that you think our sex life is a waste of time.” Jongin replies good naturedly, placing a kiss onto Kyungsoo’s lips with a loud smack. He draws away with a smile. That beautiful, beautiful smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it good for you.” 

“I am more than confident in your abilities.” Kyungsoo flops onto Jongin’s single bed face first. 

“That is a boner killer. Stop killing my boner.” Jongin whines, climbing on top of him, straddling his back. 

“I can feel your boner on my spine. It’s hardly dead.” Kyungsoo deadpans, voice muffled by the pillow beneath his head. He inhales deeply, wrinkling his nose at the smell of stale sweat. “When was the last time you washed your sheets?” 

“You’re taking dirty talk way too seriously.” Jongin sighs, “Way to kill the mood.”

He shakes Kyungsoo’s shoulders gently, trying to roll him onto his side. Kyungsoo groans in protest; his limbs are too heavy, body too tired after such a long day. 

“C’mon, move. Let’s cuddle.” 

“Cuddle now, fuck later, wash the sheets when we’re done.” Kyungsoo replies sleepily, rolling over to allow Jongin space on the small mattress. He throws his leg over Jongin’s hips and pulls them closer together. 

“That sounds amazing, Soo.” Jongin replies, “God _I hate you._ ”

“What--” Kyungsoo says in alarm, struggling to sit upright. “What are you---”

 _“I hate you._ ” Jongin repeats. “ _It’s all your fault and I hate you for it_.” 

The scene blends and fades, sunlight filtering through the cracks in Kyungsoo’s eyelids as he blinks, waking up. 

It was all a dream.

He stretches out on his too-big bed with a sigh. 

\------

“I’m just warning you, Luhan’s horny and on a rampage.” Yixing flops onto the bench next to Kris, pulling out their tobacco and rolling a cigarette with shaking hands. “And you’re on his hit list.”

Me? Kris mouths wordlessly, pointing to himself. 

Yixing nods. “Yeah, he ambushed me last night.” They pull down on their large woolen scarf slightly, revealing several large and angry looking hickies. 

“He also mentioned wanting to suck you off, so like, be warned.” Yixing seems awfully blasse about the whole thing, shrugging lightly as they light their cigarette, taking the first drag of nicotine with a calm expression. 

On the other hand, Kris appears to be having some sort of crisis, staring at Yixing with wide eyes.

“Luhan wants to _what?_ ” He sputters in disbelief. 

“Don’t stress, he won’t do anything you don’t want.” Yixing waves their hand flippantly, 

“When did he tell you that?” Kris asks, “Like, when did you have the time to talk about something like that?” 

Kris is mildly hysterical at this point.

“Funny story. He was in the middle of sucking _my_ dick when you made a noise in your sleep.” Kris chokes on a plume of smoke. “It was a bit of a turn off, really. Like, one second I’m on the receiving end of some really good head, then the next, Luhan is babbling about how big your dick felt when he sat on your lap.”

They smirk as the other patient flails, seemingly unable to process the given information.

“Just say no. He’ll leave you alone.” Yixing continues, “He’s manic but he won’t force himself on you. Just be stern, and for the love of God, don’t reciprocate.” 

“Luhan?” Jongin grunts, all but throwing himself into the bench opposite Yixing. They’d been too busy watching Kris and his internal conflict to hear the courtyard door opening. 

“Manic and horny.” They reply, “And apparently into Kris?” 

Jongin raises his eyebrow, laughing softly. 

“Don’t get too cocky,” Yixing mutters around the butt of their cigarette. They take one last draw before putting it out, staring Jongin in the eye, “He might come for you, next.” 

Jongin’s smile morphs into an all out smirk. “Bring it on.” 

“How are you so okay with this?” Kris asks, gaining his composure. Jongin just looks at him amusedly. 

“Gay? Single? In the middle of a dry spell?” Jongin shrugs. 

“Plus,” He continues, pulling a cigarette from the box and popping the menthol ball obnoxiously before lighting up, “I thought you were feeling heteroflexible.” 

“I… just…. well, not with Luhan.” He trails off, sending a not-so-subtle glance at Yixing. 

They don’t notice, eyes trained on the tobacco in front of them as they roll a new smoke. 

“Luhan’s not your type?” They say, eyes never leaving the cigarette they’re creating, “That’s bullshit, Luhan is everyone’s type.” 

“He’s not _my_ type.” Kris mutters. 

“Whatever you say.” Yixing replies. 

They resist the urge to laugh out loud. Honestly, Luhan’s interest in Kris isn’t as extreme as they make it out to be. In fact, the comment made by the other patient was made so offhandedly, Yixing’s pretty sure Luhan won’t even remember making it. 

He’s not the type of person to get fixated on one person, and the fact that he returns to Yixing time and time again is more of a testament to their friendship, rather than a sense of prolonged sexual attraction. 

The comment sparked an idea in Yixing’s head; a new test for his ‘reformed’ roommate -- they’re sure that Kris is lying about being anything other than straight, and his reaction to Luhan’s offhanded interest just proves it. 

While not outwardly disgusted, he definitely wasn’t okay with Luhan’s attention. 

Yixing scoffs. 

_Stupid straight boy._ They think, _Not so desperate to fit in now, are you?_

\------

Each member of staff in the break room lies with their head in their hands, a chorus of groans echoing in the small space.

“I think,” Starts Minseok, acting uncharacteristically unprofessional, “I think a patient just hit on me.” 

“Someone really needs to talk to Luhan about his behaviour.” Jongdae mutters from the seat next to him, “Not it.” 

“But you’re his nurse today.” Minseok deadpans. 

Jongdae groans. 

Sunny rubs his back in consolation. 

“Has anyone made contact with Junmyeon?” Minseok asks, “His meds need changing ASAP. There’s only so much Seroquel we can feed him.”

“Yeah, we took him off the Fluvoxamine this morning, put a round of Tamaze in his meds instead. Hopefully that will knock him out for a while, have him sleep off the mania.” 

“He’s not fully manic,” Minseok supplies, “He knows very well what he’s doing.” 

“So he’s engaging in attention seeking behaviour?” Jongdae enquires, head still in his hands. He now understands why Luhan’s considered one of the Terror Twins. Thank God Yixing’s medication is subduing them, otherwise they’d be in for a world of trouble. 

“Yeah. I put it in his report.” Minseok rests his head on the table, “He explicitly told me that he has little to no interest in men, but their reactions to his advances are funnier. And because Sunny rejected him.” 

Jongdae offers his fellow nurse a high five. Luhan’s energy and charm is hard to resist. He’s proud of her. 

“So you’re coming in tomorrow at nine? Fantastic. Tao will be happy to see you, he’s been complaining that no one has visited him.” Baekhyun opens the door to the staff room, taking in the scene before him with a quirked eyebrow. He’s carrying an arm full of case files and his personal phone wedged between his shoulder and ear. 

“No, don’t bring your boyfriend.” He says to the person on the other end of the line, “He’s also complaining about being single.” 

“Just bring everything.” Baekhyun nods at his co workers as he sits down next to Jongdae, “Like, all the colours. He’s _feeling creative_ , apparently.” 

“Okay, thanks Jackson. See you tomorrow.” He says, and the table erupts in more groaning. Jackson. Tao’s apprentice. If Baekhyun’s in contact with him, it means Tao is going to dye some hair. 

“Did Junmyeon approve this?” Minseok asks as he hangs up the phone, “Because you remember what happened last time.”

“It’s fine, I’ve got permission. They’re hijacking the laundry.” Baekhyun waves his hand flippantly.

“And security?” Minseok prompts. Sharp objects aren’t allowed in hospital, even one as lax as Theta. If a pair of scissors goes missing, there’s no telling what they’ll be used for. The staff aren’t overly concerned for their own safety, they don’t really take patients who are potentially dangerous to others. However, there’s a few patients who could bring harm to _themselves,_ and Minseok’s willing to bet that Tao will drag all of them into the hairdressing chair come tomorrow morning. 

“Again, sorted. We’ve got nurses stationed at the door, and they’ll do an equipment check in between each patient” Baekhyun grins. “Trust me.” 

“I don’t trust you.” Jongdae mutters. “Not at all.” 

“Well, I’ve booked you all in for an appointment. Tao’s whole team is coming in for this. I didn’t want you to miss out.” He has the audacity to wink. 

For the upteenth time, the staff groan.

\------

Jongin tip toes into his room, trying not to wake Sehun and Tao as they nap on the former’s bed. There’s a large feather down blanket covering them, they look warm, cosy. Content. 

It makes Jongin a little mad, to be honest. 

Patients have their friends and loved ones visit all the time; there’s a woman in the room down the hall whose husband travels for hours each day, just to eat dinner with her in the cafeteria. 

The younger patients have school friends, siblings, _parents_ who visit them, bringing snacks and gifts and flowers. 

Sehun and Tao have each other when they’re upset, Chanyeol goes to Kris, Luhan and Yixing have… whatever their relationship is. 

Even in a group, he’s the odd one out. 

It hurts. 

A flash of pink enters his field of vision, a brand new bouquet sitting on his bedside table. The yellow arrangement had long since perished, with the red one beside it starting to look worse for wear. 

He drags his fingers down the velvety petals, wondering just where Taemin is getting the money for all these flowers -- they’re not the cheapest of gifts, and probably the least practical, but he appreciates the sentiment none the less -- even if his best friend hasn’t made the time to visit. 

Unlocking his phone, Jongin opens the front camera. 

He tries in vain to smooth out his matted, greasy hair, wincing as his fingers tangle in the knots, pulling free shiny with oil. 

Wiping the grease on his pants, he makes an obnoxious face at the camera, peace sign included, making sure the newest set of flowers is easily visible in the background. 

He snaps the photo, attaches it to a message and sends it to Taemin. 

Jongin frowns at the picture for a moment, finally noticing how horrible he looks. His skin is breaking out like crazy, he looks messy, tired. 

Taemin replies almost immediately. 

_You look like shit. Take a shower._

Another message comes through before Jongin can respond.

_But pink suits you, flower boy._

 

Jongin smiles. 

Maybe he’s not as alone as he thought. 

\------

“How are you feeling today, Chanyeol?” Asks Doctor Jung. Normally, meetings with Chanyeol are quick, easy. _How are your meds going? I’ll lower your Saphris dosage because you’re doing well. Alright, see you next month._

Not this time, there’s an obvious change in the patient’s demeanour, something that the Psychiatrist has seen in many patients before, however never expected to see within Chanyeol.

“I think you need to reduce my meds.” He replies, voice monotone. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Are they making you ill?” He enquires, beginning to make notes on the patient files. 

“No, just… tired. Numb.” Chanyeol supplies, running a hand through his hair. The patient usually has an unkempt appearance, but it’s more of a distracted, artistic kind of look -- paint stained shirts, hair he forgot to brush, one sock because he got inspiration to a song halfway through changing, and never bothered to put another one on. But this, this is different. He looks tired, greasy, unclean. 

“Loss of motivation, insomnia, feelings of emptiness?” The Psychiatrist prompts, “Are they symptoms you’re feeling right now?” 

“Yeah, are they side effects of anything I’m taking?” He asks, absentmindedly picking at his face -- a flare up of acne he hasn’t seen since he was a teenager. 

“God, I feel like I’ll never be happy again.” 

“I’m going to put you on _Cymbalta_ , and schedule you an appointment with Minseok.” Says Doctor Jung, writing as he speaks.

“ _Cymbalta_?” Chanyeol questions, “Isn’t that _Baby’s First Anti-D?_ ” 

“ Yes. It’s a common anti-depressant for those newly diagnosed with the disorder.” 

“That makes no sense, I’m Schizophrenic, not depressed.” Chanyeol replies, confused, “Why are you treating me for something I don’t have?” 

“Honestly. I think you’ve started to develop symptoms of depression. We’ll trial you on 30mg of Cymbalta, see how it goes.” He looks at the patient, finally. He looks shell shocked, upset. The whole image he’s presenting isn’t something he’s come to associate with Chanyeol -- mood maker, hospital mascot. 

“I can’t be depressed.” He says quietly. “I just can’t.” 

“It might not be a permanent thing, and it might not develop into a severe case. But I would like to keep a close eye on your progress.”

“So I’m not getting out next week, is that what you’re saying?” 

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He looks genuinely apologetic. “But if we can get a treatment plan sorted quickly, this might not extend your stay for too long.”

Chanyeol looks at the doctor in disbelief, “Yeah, okay don’t quote me on that.” 

“This might not be permanent. There are plenty of people who have depression for short amounts of time, then recover.” He says gently. Chanyeol doesn’t respond, choosing instead to stare at the paintings on the wall.

 _Depression, huh?_

It sounds horrible.

It feels horrible.

Chanyeol doesn’t want to have depression.

\------

“Where’s your cane?” Sehun asks as Kris enters the courtyard. Tao sits on the bench opposite, looking at each person in the circle in turn, before humming and scribbling notes in an abnoxiously purple notebook. 

“Oh, the physio told me to start walking short distances without it. Try and strengthen the muscle or something.” He replies, easing himself onto the bench next to Chanyeol, purposely avoiding the free space to Luhan’s left. Yixing notices, and smirks lightly around the butt of their cigarette. 

“What’s up with him?” Kris gestures to Tao with his lighter; the other patient still scribbling away on his notebook, making disapproving noises and scribbling things out. 

He hits Sehun over the head with the book as he tries to peer over his shoulder.

“I’m trying to figure out what to do with your hair tomorrow.” Tao sniffs. 

“And you haven’t thought to ask us?” Sehun replies with a raised eyebrow, “Assuming anyone here is letting you anywhere near their hair.” 

“I’m game.” Says Jongin, inspecting his box of cigarettes and finding it empty. Shrugging, he throws the empty package into the bushes, before stealing one from Luhan. “I’m bored. This might give me something to do for a few hours.” 

“I’m offended you think so little of my work, Jongin.” Replies Tao, placing a hand over his heart.

“Be thankful he’s even letting you do this.” Snarks Sehun. 

“I was thinking a light brown for Jongin.” Tao ignores him, turning to the other patient, “What do you think.” 

Jongin pauses. Brown is boring, predictable. If he’s going to let someone as flamboyant as Tao come at his head with a bowl of dye, he may as well go all out. 

“Um, I was thinking something a little more… colourful.” He says, trying to think of ideas but coming up blank. “I’ll leave the styling to you, though.” 

“How about silver?” Luhan suggests, “I think silver would look good.” 

“No!” Jongin all but shouts. It’s the same colour Kyungsoo had dyed his hair, all those years ago. Reminders of Kyungsoo are everywhere in Theta, he doesn’t want the mirror to be one of them. 

“Okay, so what do you have in mind.” Tao prompts, “Because my mind is set on brown, and if you can’t think of anything else, that’s what I’m doing.” 

Jongin pauses mid drag. 

_Pink suits you, Flower Boy._

“How about… pink?” If Taemin, someone who rarely gives compliments, thinks pink will suit him, then it probably will. 

Tao’s eyes widen in surprise, “Yes, yes, I can see the perfect shade for you.” He scribbles down something in his notebook. “Pink. Yes, it will be done!” 

“If you don’t want the silver, can I steal it?” Chanyeol asks, his hair is long, an ash brown. He’s already bleached it lighter, the silver process shouldn’t take too long. 

“Yes, perfect! Can I cut it as well?” Tao looks positively gleeful. Sehun is terrified. 

“Go for it.” Chanyeol shrugs. 

“So I’ve got pink for Jongin, silver for Chanyeol, black for Yixing, blonde for Luhan…. what about you two?” He gestures towards Sehun and Kris, almost hitting the former in the face with his book as he flails his arms. 

“Blonde.” Kris says. “I might go blonde, too.” Jongin raises his eyebrow at Kris, who looks away awkwardly. 

He’s trying to look like Luhan to get Yixing’s attention. Cute. 

“Blonde it is!” Cries Tao, “Oh, I have missed the smell of bleach….”

“You’re not doing anything to my hair.” Sehun cuts in. “I’m happy the way it is.” 

“You haven’t changed your hair in like, five years.” Luhan points out. “Live a little.” 

“No deal.” Sehun crosses his arms in front of him, forming an X.

“I’ll get you in my chair, yet.” Tao says seriously. 

“Way to make it sound like a death sentence.” Sehun replies. 

\------

“Jongin?” Sehun asks from behind the curtain. It’s 1am, but Tao somehow roped them all into rearranging the laundry before they went to bed. It took longer than anticipated. 

“‘myeah?” Is his roommates sleepy response, “What’s up?” 

“What’s it like, you know, being in love?” 

There’s silence, before the curtain separating their bed flies open. 

“Why are you asking me?” He enquires, “I haven’t had the best track record with my love life.” 

“Yeah, but you’re here and Chanyeol isn’t. Plus, he’s more likely to go on a tangent about his girlfriends boobs than actually providing useful advice.” Sehun shrugs awkwardly. “So spill.” 

“I don’t know, man.” Jongin drags his hand down his face in annoyance. “Love sucks. It hurts and it sucks.” 

“Helpful.”

“It was a mistake asking me.” Jongin replies. “Ask Kyungsoo.” 

“Why would Kyungsoo kno---” He pauses, looking at Jongin in disbelief. “He’s still in love with you.” 

It’s not a question.

“Yeah, he came in here the other day and told me.” Jongin collapses back onto his bed with a sigh. “That’s the last thing I needed to hear, to be honest.” 

“He really needs to get over you, Jesus.” Sehun scoffs. “It’s been what, four years?” 

“Yeah. I’m not over him either, so I guess I’m just as pathetic.” 

“Do you, like, want to date him again?” Sehun prompts, pushing the thoughts of _This isn’t me, I don’t do feelings_ to the back of his head. Somewhere, deep down, he’s grown attached to his roommate. Baekhyun would surely be overjoyed if he found out, Sehun’s willing to bet that putting the two of them together in the same room was his idea. 

“Fuck no. I want him to leave me alone. Let me get over him in peace.” Jongin replies. “Anyway, we were talking about you.” 

Sehun sits in silence for a moment, trying to arrange his thoughts. Figuring out ways to make things vague, relatable. He wants Jongin to help, but doesn’t really want him to know what’s going on.

“Tao’s hot.” He blurts out. So much for that idea. 

“I figured this would be about him.” Jongin laughs. “But just because your anaconda _does_ want those buns, doesn’t mean you’re in love.” 

“I cannot believe I came to you with a real problem, and you’re replying using Nicki Minaj references. _I hate you_.” Sehun rolls over on his bed, turning his back to Jongin. 

He just laughs harder. 

“Seriously, though.” Jongin starts, recovering from his hysterics, “He seems somewhat interested. Just like, stop frowning at him all the time, compliment him? I don’t know man. I’m terrible at this.” 

“So, Kyungsoo made the first move, then?” Sehun supposes he deserved to be hit by the pillow Jongin threw at him. 

“Take it slow. Don’t rush into things. Do you want to fuck him, or hold his hand? That’s what you need to figure out.” 

“Both.” Sehun replies. “I want to do both.” 

“And I really don’t want to think about you and Tao fucking, thanks for that.” 

Sehun throws Jongin’s pillow back at him. His roommate makes a satisfying noise of surprise as it hits him square in the face. “You were the one that brought it up.” 

“My diagnosis is,” Jongin starts, imitating Junmyeon as he speaks, “You’ve got it bad. I prescribe a little one on one time with Tao. See me again next week.” 

Sehun groans. “You’re terrible at this, why are we friends?” 

Jongin turns to look at him through the gap in the curtain, shit-eating grin on his face. “You’re lying. It totally helped. You knew that you’re into him, you just needed confirmation.” 

“Shut up.” Sehun mutters, turning off his lamp. “We’re not talking about this anymore.” 

“Good night,” Jongin replies with a laughing tone, “Dream of Tao.” 

In the darkness, he doesn’t see the pillow.


	14. Day Thirteen: Look Good Feel Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Look Good Feel Better:** _  
> An Australian Community Service programme which manages the appearance related side of chemotherapy and radiation therapy. It is hosted by makeup artists, sponsored by cosmetic companies and is dedicated to making Australians of all ages and genders who suffer from Cancer feel better about themselves. Your humble author attended one of these programs in support of their mother when they were a young teenager, and now applies the same concept to mental health._

There is a large bouquet of flowers walking towards Kyungsoo. 

Or at least, that’s what it looks like; as the arrangement is so large it obscures the face of the person holding it. She -- judging by the tiny skirt and wedged heels -- barely manages to avoid running into the onslaught of patients heading to the medicine room as she teeters down the hall. 

A male voice calls out from behind her; he seems to be whining loudly, but then again, Kyungsoo speaks absolutely no Mandarin, so he’s not quite sure. A third voice laughs.

Closer inspection reveals that the three visitors are wearing matching shirts; black, fitted, a small peach logo over the heart. 

_Mandarin, matching uniforms_ \----

It suddenly clicks. 

These are Tao’s employees. 

“Hi!” The girl says, peering over the flowers as she walks towards Kyungsoo, “Can you tell me which room Zitao is in?” 

“Room Fourteen.” He replies, pointing in the direction of the patient’s room. “When you’re ready to set up, go to the front desk and ask for a nurse named Baekhyun.” 

“We don’t need help, it’s cool.” One of the other employees says, waving his hand flippantly. _Jackson_ , his nametag reads. The third member of their trio looks uncomfortable and out of place. He’s not wearing a nametag and his shirt looks a little too big. 

“I know. You need supervision. You’re bringing chemicals and sharp objects into a mental hospital.” Kyungsoo states plainly. 

The staff member without a tag blanches. 

“No one is dangerous.” Kyungsoo resists the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s just a precaution.” 

“Good to know.” The girl says, shooting the unnamed boy a glare. Jackson elbows him in the ribs. 

“Anyway,” She continues, “I’ll go drop these off, and then we can get started.” 

Kyungsoo watches them leave, the two boys roughhousing behind the girl as she walks down the hall, miraculously avoiding running into anything, as the flowers continue to obscure her vision. 

Kyungsoo sighs. 

Today’s going to be _eventful_ , to say the least.

\------

“Wake up, children!” Luhan squawks as he enters Yixing and Kris’ room, “The sun is shining, I’m pretty sure I hear our little birdy Baekhyun singing, and it’s time to fry our hair.” 

“You are so _loud._ ” Yixing groans, pulling the covers back over their head. “And it’s early. Sunny hasn’t even come in to give me my meds, yet.” 

Kris grunts in agreement. 

“We have to line up early. Especially Kris. It’s gonna take ages to dye his hair, and I don’t want them to run out of time.” 

“They wont. There’s six of them. Tao told me yesterday.” Yixing grumbles. “Let me sleep.” 

“Nope!” Luhan pop’s the p obnoxiously, flinging himself onto Yixing’s bed. “I’m awake, you’re awake, let’s smoke.” 

“If I go with you, will you shut up?” Kris mutters from behind the curtain. 

“Only if you let me sit on your lap.” Luhan replies. Yixing throws him a confused glance, and Luhan grabs his crotch obscenely, grinning in response. They roll their eyes. 

“Urgh, deal.” Kris surprisingly agrees. “C’mon pretty boy, let’s go.” 

Luhan screeched in protest. “I’m _not_ pretty.” 

Kris’ head appears through the gap in the curtain, his eyebrow raised mockingly. He looks Luhan up and down, taking in his pink pyjamas and fluffy slippers. “Sure. Whatever you say.” 

The curtain flies open, and Luhan chokes. Kris is shirtless. Yixing, being his roommate, is used to Kris’ surprisingly frequent bouts of partial nudity. 

“Want to swap rooms, Xingxing?” Luhan waggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Down boy.” Yixing hisses. Kris makes a show of putting on his shirt, stretching as he raises the fabric above his head. Honestly, the Seroquel and fatty hospital food has caused him to gain weight; he’s got slight love handles where sharp hip bones used to be. Despite his dwindling physical fitness, the attention feels nice, so he relishes in it. 

“Are you two _flirting_?” Yixing asks in disbelief. “I cannot believe you’re flirting.” 

Kris has the audacity to wink. Luhan has the audacity to swoon. 

“It’s too early for this shit.” They mutter. “I’m going back to bed.” 

They watch Luhan follow Kris out of the room, thrusting obscenely as he goes. 

It’s too early for Yixing to ponder Luhan’s sudden attraction to Kris, and too confusing to entertain the thought of Kris reciprocating -- especially with the effects of last night’s medication still flowing through their system.

Their eyelids flutter, ready to slip back into wondrous sleep--- 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” Sunny calls from the door. “Take some meds, have some breakfast, enjoy your day!” 

Yixing groans again.

It’s going to be an interesting, sleep deprived day.

\------

“Please tell me you’re getting your hair dyed today.” There is a child on his knees in front of Sehun, blocking his path as he tries to navigate his way to the courtyard. Well, he says child, but the boy in front of him looks no older than seventeen. “I think blonde would suit you.” 

He forms his thumbs and forefingers into a rectangle, inspecting Sehun through the gaps in his fingers. “Yes, a silver-blonde. Lovely. I’d offer to perm it too, but I don’t have the equipment with me.”

“You don’t know how to do perms, yet. Zitao hasn’t taught us.” Sehun suddenly notices the appearance of a second child, around a similar age. He immediately likes this one more, he stands with crossed arms, glaring at the boy on the floor. “Stop trying to give everyone the same hair as you.” 

He takes in the curly mop of silver hair on the boy’s head, and visibly shudders. Yeah, that’s not a hairstyle he’d want. 

“Let me guess, you’re Tao’s apprentices?” Sehun says boredly. Of course they’re Tao’s apprentices; they’re both so alike him in their own ways -- and, judging by their nametags; _Minghao_ and _Junhui_ , respectively, they’re Chinese, too. 

Minghao offers a thumbs up in response. Junhui nods. 

“Yeah well, I told Tao and I’m telling you,’ He starts, sidestepping the boy still on the ground. “No one’s coming anywhere near my hair.” 

Sehun walks off, lack of nicotine getting to him, his system buzzing angrily. From behind him, he hears Minghao yelp in pain. Turning slightly, he notices the boy rubbing his shin gingerly, glaring at a smug looking Junhui. 

Yeah, that kid’s definitely his favourite. 

\------

Tao fiddles with the screwdriver, attempting to attach the portable hose to the laundry sink. 

_Thank God_ he still had it lying around at home, a relic from his freelance at-home hairdressing days. 

_Thank God_ he lives with his salon manager, and they were able to get it into their partner-slash-Tao’s Senior hairdresser’s hands. 

_Thank God_ for Jia in general, he’d be lost without them. 

“Want a hand?” Asks a voice from behind him. “You look like you’re struggling.” 

Tao turns around to face the unfamiliar voice. He’s wearing the uniform from Tao’s salon, but he’s never seen this kid before in his life. 

“Who are you?” He asks bluntly, hoping that he hadn’t hired a new staff member before his admission, and promptly had his entire existence fried from his brain during ECT. 

“Oh, this is Mark.” Jackson pipes up from the other side of the room. He’s helping Min cover the cafeteria chairs in plastic, a crude dye-proofing of hospital furniture. “I worked with him at my old salon.”

“I’m looking to build up my portfolio a bit.” He replies, shrugging.

“You can’t take photos of the patients, I hope you know.” Baekhyun hums, carrying yet another chair through the door. “Hospital policy.”

“Fuck.” Mark swears in Mandarin. He turns to Jackson, “Did you know about this?” 

“I had no idea.” He replies, but his grin suggests otherwise. 

“Chalk it up to practice and community service.” Tao says, still fiddling with the difficult fitting. “Plus, today isn’t about you. It’s about the patients. We’re here because we feel like shit, and you’ve _volunteered_ to help us.” 

Jackson snickers as he tapes down the plastic. It’s nice to see someone else on the end of Tao’s lectures, for once. 

“When you have a mental illness, you are your own worst enemy.” Tao continues, not once looking at the stunned boy, “So sometimes, liking what you see in the mirror can help a little bit, make you feel like you’re not as worthless as your brain tells you.” 

He sighs, straightening up, finally managing to secure the hose to the laundry tap. “But then again, you’ve taken time to come in and help us, so I suppose that warrants some kind of thank you.” He looks Mark up and down. “I’ll let you dye my hair today. If you do a good enough job, I’ll let you put me in your portfolio.” 

“If the owner of _Peach Paradise_ lets you dye his hair, you can get a job at any salon you want, kid.” Min says, slapping a piece of tape onto Mark’s back, laughing as he struggles to remove it.

“You never let me dye your hair.” Jackson whines. 

“You still don’t know the difference between _auburn_ and _mahogany_.” Tao replies simply. “When I can trust you to pick the correct colour, then you can dye my hair.” 

Baekhyun smiles as he takes the inventory of Tao’s equipment. The conversation had quickly turned into fast paced Mandarin, and his understanding left over from high school Chinese classes were quickly exhausted. 

“You said there were six of you,” Baekhyun says after a moment, “But there’s only four here.”

Tao stops suddenly. “Where are Minghao and Junhui?” He asks Min. She shrugs.

“Jun messaged me like, half an hour ago. Said they were outside.” 

“You don’t think---” Baekhyun starts, looking at Tao in alarm.

“Yes, yes I do.” Tao replies. 

“Wait, what? I don’t understand your weird ass psychic connection. Please explain for those of us who are uniformed.” Jackson says, looking between his boss and the nurse with a very confused expression. 

“Chanyeol.” Tao says.

“Chanyeol.” Baekhyun nods in affirmation. 

Not once has someone's name sounded so ominous.

\-----

“And that is how they found me; naked in a field, thankfully spared by the aliens.” Chanyeol concludes his story with a flourish, grinning at a wide eyed Minghao. 

“I can’t believe you survived.” He says in awe. 

“I can’t believe I’m listening to this.” Junhui says, stealing a cigarette from Sehun’s carton. “Do you mind?” 

“Aren’t you a little young to be smoking?” Sehun asks with a raised eyebrow, though he makes no move to stop him. 

“I’m eighteen.” He says, lighting up with practiced ease, “He’s not.” 

Junhui gestures towards Minghao with his free hand. The younger boy is staring at Chanyeol with unrestrained awe. 

“God, they even look alike.” Sehun mutters. 

“We do!” Chanyeol yells, shaking Minghao’s shoulders aggressively. “Be careful, young one, or the aliens will come for you, thinking it’s me!” 

“Chanyeol, no.” Sehun groans. 

“Chanyeol, yes!” He yells in response, “I must make sure my small doppelganger is safe from harm!” He cradles the boy to his chest protectively. 

“Is this standard behaviour in here?” Junhui asks Sehun. 

“Unfortunately.” Sehun replies dully. 

“So, that’s standard too?” He asks again, pointing to the corner where Luhan sits on the lap of a surprisingly calm Kris. They watch as Luhan pulls the cigarette from Kris’ mouth, before taking a drag himself, blowing smoke rings into the air. 

“No, that’s an anomaly.” Sehun says with furrowed brows. “I mean, Luhan sits on everyone’s lap. But Kris isn’t usually so….” He watches as Kris large hand settles on Luhan’s thigh. “... Responsive.” 

There’s a loud slam as the door to the courtyard opens hurriedly, a panicked looking Baekhyun flying outside with the momentum. 

“Oh thank God, we’ve been looking everywhere---” He pauses, taking in the scene in front of him. Minhao is still cradled to Chanyeol’s chest, Junhui sits in a pose mimicking Sehun’s; legs crossed, arms folded, a cigarette hanging from slender fingers. Even their raised eyebrows are identical. 

He’s seeing double. 

He’s also seeing Luhan’s hand starting to slide up Kris’ shirt. 

“Alright, you two,” He points to Junhui and Minghao, “Come with me.”

He turns to Kris and Luhan. “And you two, break it up. We’ve already spoken to you about this behavior, Luhan. Don’t make me write you up.”

“What are you gonna do,” Drawls Luhan, not bothering to move. “Send me to _Our Ladies_? My mother works there.” 

“No.” Baekhyun says, smirking. “I’ll send you to _The Dungeon._ ” 

“You _wouldn’t_.” Luhan replies affronted. 

“Try me.” He replies defiantly, and Luhan reluctantly slips from Kris’ lap. 

“Well played, sir.” He mutters. “Well played.” 

“What’s _The Dungeon?_ ” Kris asks. 

“The psych ward at _The Royal_. Nasty place. Very nasty.” Chanyeol supplies, finally releasing Mingaho from his death grip. “The very definition of a locked ward. You can’t smoke, can’t have your phone. Nothing to do but stare at walls.” 

“You’re scaring the children.” Sehun says. 

Junhui scoffs, and Minghao laughs uncomfortably. 

“Yes, well, the children need to come with me.” Baekhyun says flippantly. Ushering them into the building with quiet _tuts_ and muttering about _bad influences._

\------

“You absolute traitor.” Luhan says as Yixing makes their way into the courtyard. Their newly dyed black hair shines blue in the sunlight. “I was ahead of you on the list, yet you get your hair dyed before me.”

“Baekhyun said something about punishment, and you going last.” They smile as Luhan chokes on a lungful of smoke. 

“That _bastard_.” He coughs out. 

“What did you do this time?” They ask, but they’re quite sure they know the answer, if Luhan’s earlier actions were anything to go by.

“Found me sitting on Kris’ lap.” He mutters. “Apparently it’s _inappropriate behaviour_.” He makes small quotation marks in the air, grumbling under his breath.

“I’m surprised you allowed it, to be honest.” Yixing turns to Kris, “I mean, yesterday you wanted nothing to do with his dick, and now you’re letting him rub it all over your leg.” 

“Excuse me!” Luhan screeches, affronted. “How dare you.” 

“Who are you talking to?” Yixing enquires, “Me or him?” 

“Both of you.” He huffs. “How dare you not want my dick, and how dare _you_ for implying I was rubbing myself on him like some sort of sex depraved deviant.” 

“You _are_ a sex depraved deviant.” Yixing deadpans. “But seriously, what’s up with you two?” 

“We are simply enjoying each other’s company.” Luhan replies airily. “Honestly, once he started responding it wasn’t fun to hit on him anymore.” 

“And I figured that would be the case, so I went with it.” Kris shrugs. 

“You’re not so grumpy underneath all that eyebrow game, are you?” Luhan coos. 

Yixing stares at them in disbelief. 

Luhan is flighty, friends with everyone but very rarely does he open up to people. The body language between the two men sitting across from them has changed drastically; they’re comfortable with each other, at ease. 

They’ve known Luhan for years, and not once have they seen him openly admit his flirting is just a bait, that he does it for the fun of seeing the reaction of his target. Usually, he’ll just move on to someone new if they stop amusing him, and the person will just assume they’ve lost interest.

Yixing won’t admit it, but they’re inherently curious about what they talked about for Luhan to be acting like this. 

They wonder just how Kris managed to get their elusive friend to open up, and just how much he _truly_ knows about Luhan.

\------

“I love the smell of bleach!” Exclaims Minghao brightly. Jongin is mildly concerned that this small child with a defective sense of smell is coming at his head with a bowl full of chemicals. He tries not to look nervous. He fails miserably. 

“Junkie.” Junhui mutters, and Minghao pokes his tongue out in response. The two begin bickering in loud Mandarin over Jongin’s head. 

He deeply regrets his decision to get his hair dyed. 

Tao cuts their argument short with a well timed glare. It’s strange, considering he’s usually the one involved in childing bickering when they’re out in the courtyard. But here, this isn’t Tao the Patient, this is Boss Tao, Hairdresser Tao. It’s honestly very strange. 

“I’ll do this. Minghao, go touch up Baekhyun’s roots. Junhui, Doctor Kim has decided that he wants _orange_ hair. Please help him choose an acceptable colour.” 

The two apprentices nod, scrambling away quickly to complete their tasks. 

“You’re so different when you’re working.” Jongin says as Tao begins applying the bleach to his hair, wrapping each completed section in foil. 

“You’re so _commanding_.” He says, grinning. “It’s too bad Sehun’s not here, I’m pretty sure he’d be into it.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tao mutters. 

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“Don’t make me dye your hair green.” 

“You wouldn’t do it. I’d look terrible. You couldn’t risk someone knowing you’d given someone a bad dye job.” Jongin laughs as Tao huffs. 

“I hate it when you’re right.” 

There’s a brief lul in conversation as Tao focuses on the task at hand. Sound echoes in the small laundry, he can hear Min discussing the meaning of crystals with a patient as she dyes her hair a dark purple. Minghao is interrogated by Baekhyun about his earlier experience with Chanyeol and Junhui tries desperately to convince Minseok to pick a different shade of orange for his hair. _Anything but that_. He says, and Jongin smiles to himself.

“I meant what I said, you know.” He says finally. “About Sehun.” 

“And I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tao replies defensively. 

“He’s into you.” Jongin replies bluntly. “Really into you.” 

“I doubt that.” Tao says, keeping his voice calm, measured. His tone gives nothing away, but the shaking of his hands does.

“He asked me what it felt like to be in love.” 

Tao nearly drops the bowl of dye in shock. “ _What_.” 

“Yeah.” Jongin says, “But you’re going to have to make the first move.” 

“I’ve been making the first move since my second day here.” Tao replies tiredly. “It’s his turn.”

“Sehun’s an idiot.” Jongin says. “He didn’t even realise he was into until I said that you’re hot.” 

“You think I’m hot?” Tao splutters, nearly dropping the bleach a second time.

“That’s the same reaction he had,” Jongin smirks, “God you two are made for each other.” 

“So what should I do.” Tao asks, folding the final piece of foil over Jongin’s hair. “I haven’t exactly been subtle.” 

“No, you really haven’t.” Jongin snorts. “But be even less subtle, if you can.” 

“I’ll try my best.” He offers Jongin a salute, gloved hands smearing bleach onto his forehead. 

\------

“Woah, nice!” Chanyeol offers Kris a thumbs up as he sits down on the bench next to him. It’s late, almost time for dinner and the sunset casts an orange glow onto the courtyard. 

Apparently, he was dragged into Luhan’s _punishment_ as well, being the second last person allowed into the makeshift salon. Luhan was still there, as Tao’s workers joined together in the effort to lighten his hair before they had to leave. 

Surprisingly, Tao was also in the chair, chatting idly to the staff member painting suspiciously purple looking dye onto his newly bleached locks. 

“You look good too,” Kris offers. “Different.” 

Chanyeol’s hair has gone from long and light brown; a matted greasy mess he never bothered to brush, to a short and fluffy mop of silver. 

“Thanks man, Minghao did a good job.” He says, placing a hand over his heart. “My small son, I am so proud.”

“You’ve known the kid for less than a day.” Kris deadpans, running his hands across the shaved blonde hairs on the side of his head. Min had done a great job, neatening everything up into some sort of stylish undercut, and dyed it an ash-blonde. “How can you be so attached to someone you barely know?”  
“He’s like, a tiny version of me, how can I not love him?” Chanyeol sniffs. With his new haircut they look nearly identical. 

“God, you’ve imprinted on the kid.” Luhan drawls, emerging from the doorway, Yixing and Jongin in tow.

“He is so precious.” Chanyeol swoons. 

“He’s terrifying.” Jongin replies, remembering his frightening enthusiasm for bleach. No one should be that excited about hair dye. 

“Where’s Sehun?” Yixing asks, playing with a lock of Jongin’s pink hair with fascination. Honestly, out of everyone, Jongin looks the most different with his new haircut. 

“Last I saw, Tao was dragging him into the laundry.” Jongin replies. 

“No way.” Luhan breathes. “Tao managed to get Sehun to change his hair?” 

“I dunno.” Jongin shrugs, taking a deep inhale from his cigarette. “We’ll see when he gets out.”

“I’m taking bets.” Chanyeol says. “One pack of smokes says he comes out a changed man.” 

“Call!” Luhan says, and Yixing rolls their eyes. “Sehun is stubborn, there’s no way he’ll let him do anything more than trim his bangs.”

“Prepare to buy me the most expensive pack of cigarettes the store has to offer.” Chanyeol says, eyes glinting in a challenge. 

Yixing hums, but says nothing, scratching softly at the now short hairs at Jongin’s nape. 

They catch Kris’ eye, who smiles softly. 

“I like your hair.” He says, just loud enough to be heard over Luhan and Chanyeol’s arguing. “Suits you.”

“Thanks.” They reply quietly. “You too.” 

Jongin stares between the two as they hold each other’s gaze. Yixing’s hand might be in his hair, but he’s feeling like the third wheel in the whole situation. 

A shriek cuts echoes out into the courtyard, breaking the tension, and quelling Luhan and Chanyeol’s bickering. 

Even from a distance, the sound was obviously made by Sehun. Chanyeol smirks, his frizzy silver hair and wide grin makes him look like some sort of mad scientist. 

“Time to pay up, pretty boy.” He snickers.

“ ‘m not pretty.” Luhan mutters.

\------

“ _I trusted you_.” Sehun is positively seething. He stares into the small mirror in Tao’s hands, tugging on a lock of cotton candy pink hair like the motion will strip the colour away. “I trusted you, and you did this to me.”

“What’s the matter? I think it looks great!” Tao grins, placing the mirror on the bench and ruffling Sehun’s hair affectionately. 

“It’s _pink_.” He states plainly. “Do I look like someone who wants _pink_ hair?” 

“Nope.” Tao singsongs obnoxiously, “But it suits you anyway.” 

“It really doesn’t.” Sehun mutters darkly. He agreed to blonde. Blonde and a trim. When Tao came at him with a bowl of something pink, he assured him it was toner, something to make his hair less yellow. He lied. 

“No seriously,” He says, and suddenly Sehun has a lapful of Tao, the other patient straddling him, before grasping Sehun’s hair and pulling his head backwards. The momentum causes the wheelie chair to move backwards, and Tao locks his legs around Sehun’s waist to maintain balance. Sehun’s hands grab hold of the first part of Tao he can find to stop himself from falling off the chair and taking the other man with him. 

It’s not until Tao lets out a soft groan that he realises that the first part of Tao’s body within reach was actually his ass; Sehun, against his better judgement, doesn’t let go. Instead, he grips harder. 

He wants to hear that sound again. 

“I mean, you were hot before,” Tao whispers into his ear, voice light, breathy. Sehun is unbelievably turned on. “But now…” 

He trails off, finishing his sentence by gripping Sehun’s hair harder and rolling his hips, moaning quietly into Sehun’s ear. 

“That good, huh?” Sehun pants into the skin of Tao’s throat. He’s not sure if he’s talking about his new hair, or the fact that Tao is currently grinding his ass against his dick. 

“ _God, yes._ ” Tao whines, and he pulls Sehun’s head back, sucking on the skin behind his left ear. 

Sehun cries out, a high pitched whine leaving his throat as he grabs Tao’s ass harder, thrusting upwards. 

He’s sensitive, he’s hard and he’s _big_. More importantly, he’s _into this_. Tao feel’s like he’s won the lottery. 

“I hope you’re not fucking in there!” Screams Baekhyun as he bangs on the door. “I’m giving you ten seconds, and if I see _one_ dick you’ll be shipped off to _Our Ladies_ before you can even get your pants back on.” 

“Cockblock.” Tao mutters as he untangles himself from Sehun. He places one last kiss behind Sehun’s ear before calling out to the nurse. “We’re decent!” 

The door swings open and a disgruntled Baekhyun storms in, Tao’s entire team of staff follow him into the room, expressions ranging from amused (Min) to horrified (Minghao). They had vacated the room earlier, enticed by a free meal at the cafeteria after a hard day’s work. 

“It’s not what you think.” Sehun says. “I was angry at him for dying my hair this colour.” 

He tugs as the light pink strands again, scowling. “We were play fighting a bit. I was winning.”

“You were not.” Tao replies haughtily, swatting at him lightly. 

“I don’t believe you.” Baekhyun says. “But I’m going to preserve my sanity and pretend I do.” 

 

As Tao’s staff pack away their things, Baekhyun pulls Sehun to the side. 

“You’re a good kid,” He whispers, “But I have to tell you something.”

“What?” 

“Look, I don’t care what happened in here earlier.” Baekhyun starts, he holds his hand up as Sehun starts to protest. “But you can’t let anyone catch you.”

Sehun says nothing, staring over at Tao as he directs his staff. 

“You two look good together.” Baekhyun says, following Sehun’s line of vision, “But if anyone but me catches you again, one of you will be sent to _Our Ladies_.” 

“They’re usually pretty lenient with shit like this. Didn’t Chanyeol and Sooyoung get together while they were in here?” Sehun asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, but the worst thing Chanyeol and Sooyoung did was kiss each other on the cheek.” Baekhyun says seriously. “They weren’t caught dry humping on hospital furniture, or giving sneaky midnight blowjobs.” 

“I haven’t---” Sehun trails off. “Luhan and Yixing.” 

“It’s getting a little too sexually charged here.” Baekhyun sighs, running a hand down his face in annoyance. “It’s inappropriate for hospital, you’re here to get better, not get laid.” 

“I understand.” Sehun says solemnly. 

“You can still cuddle and be cute or whatever.” Baekhyun says, “Honestly, I think a relationship would be good for both of you, and I’m sure Junmyeon agrees.” 

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.” 

“Please don’t talk to me about butts.” Baekhyun sudders. “Don’t forget I just saw you with your hands on Tao’s.” 

“How did you---”

“Sehun, the laundry door has a window.” He says, deadpan, crossing his arms and staring at the patient with judging eyes. “So keep it G-Rated until you guys get out.” 

“I’ll try my best.” Sehun says laughing slightly. “I’ll try my best.” 

\------

Luhan has seemingly lost interest in Kris, if their current body language is anything to go by. Not that Jongin is an expert in human interaction, it’s just that Luhan is very easy to read. 

The most telling thing, he supposes, is that Luhan is currently seated on Jongin’s lap and not Kris’. 

“Love the hair, Nini.” Luhan whispers into his ear. They’re in the front courtyard and they’re completely alone. This could either go badly, or very badly. 

Or, Jongin thinks, he could roll with it. What could possibly happen?

 

Luhan is a very good kisser, he decides, a good ten minutes later. Jongin hopes his technique isn’t too sloppy, inexperience too obvious, but judging by how breathless Luhan is, how kiss swollen his lips are, Jongin can safely assume he’s doing a good job. 

Luhan is really, truly, easy to read. And right now, he looks like he wants to eat Jongin _whole_.

And he’s okay with that. Honestly. 

Because for once, he’s not thinking about Kyungsoo. He’s moving on, found someone else. Never mind that this is a fling, and it’s all it will ever be. 

It’s not a drunk pity fuck from Wonshik. 

It’s Luhan, kissing Jongin because he wants to. There’s no motive behind it, just lips and tongues and roaming hands. 

Jongin lets go and enjoys the moment. Relishes in the carefree affection that Luhan offers in abundance. 

He ignores the sound of the door opening, assuming it’s Kris. Assuming that they’ll shock the poor guy, before laughing about it later. 

He doesn’t expect telltale clattering of the visuals board as it hits the pavement. 

“Oh, hey Kyungsoo.” Luhan says brightly pulling away from Jongin’s lips with a loud smack. He doesn’t bother trying to explain, or to move from his current position. He just smiles, and plays with Jongin’s pretty _pretty_ pink hair. 

“Um, I’ll just---” Kyungsoo fumbles over his words, fumbles as he tries to pick up the visuals board from the ground. “Visuals. Yeah.” 

He stares at them for a moment. “I’ll go now.” He says quietly. 

Jongin swears he hears Kyungsoo choke back a sob as he walks up the stairs.

\------

“So.” Baekhyun says, walking into Jongin’s room. Sehun is outside with the rest of the group, leaving Jongin to his thoughts. “Do you want to tell me why Kyungsoo went home early tonight, or do I have to start making assumptions.” 

“He went home early?” Jongin asks, boredly. ”I hadn’t noticed.”

“Cut the shit.” Baekhyun hisses. “Kyungsoo went to find you and Luhan, and he comes back and immediately asks to go home.”

“I think you’ve answered your own question, Baekhyun.” Jongin says simply. He’s not in the mood for this, for the angry best friend confrontation. 

“You and Luhan?” Baekhyun groans. “Jesus Christ.” 

“You can’t blame me.” Jongin shrugs. “He’s hot, I’m single.”

“This is a mental hospital, not a dating agency.” Baekhyun hisses. “Honestly, I should be shipping Luhan off to a different hospital for this.” 

“But?” Jongin prompts.

“But I won’t.” Baekhyun says. “I’m mad -- more at Luhan than at you, don’t worry -- but because _he keeps doing this_ rather than because it upset Kyungsoo.”

“You’re his best friend. Shouldn’t you be the least bit angry at the people who made him cry?” 

“Normally, I’d be out for blood.” Baekhyun affirms, “But this is different.” 

“How so?” Jongin asks, idly fiddling with his new hair. 

“Because he needs to get over you.” Baekhyun replies bluntly. “He’s spent the past four years pining over what could have been, ruining every relationship he’s had because he keeps comparing them to you.” 

Jongin stills in shock. So this is what Kyungsoo meant about trying to move on, but not being able to. 

“Your relationship was -- is -- toxic.” Baekhyun continues. “And I know Luhan, so I know that whatever you two have going on isn’t, and will never be, a serious thing.” 

He puts his hand on Jongin’s head, ruffling his hair slightly, “But I need you both to pretend it is. Pretend you’re in love. Harsh words won’t stop Kyungsoo from loving you, but if he thinks you’ve moved on, then maybe he will too.” 

Baekhyun sighs. “I want what’s best for both of you. And that’s moving on, and forgetting that you ever dated in the first place. Can you try and do that for me, Jongin?” 

“Sure.” He replies quietly, fiddling with the blanket on his bed. “I can do that for you.” 

“Good boy.” Baekhyun says. And with that he takes his leave. 

 

Jongin stays awake all night. He feigns sleep when the night nurses do their rounds, checking on each patient, noting their sleeping patterns on their clipboard. 

As the sun rises, he still lies there, staring at the ceiling. He thinks of Kyungsoo, of what was, of what could have been. 

What would it be like, if he had answered that call from Kyungsoo all those years ago? Would he still be in hospital, or would he be working at the museum, just like he had planned?

Would he come home to find Kyungsoo sitting on the couch, watching some dumb comedy on the television as background noise while he marks tenth grade history essays? Would he kiss the complaints from his lips as he whines about their lack of research, their grammar mistakes? 

So many scenarios and what if’s fly through Jongin’s mind. 

But in the end, as he finally drifts off to sleep, he concludes. _Maybe it’s best if we all just move on._


	15. Day Fourteen: Observer Bias

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Observer Bias:**   
> _The distortion of evidence because of the personal motives and expectations of the viewer._

As a child, Yixing had an imaginary friend. The boy wouldn’t tell them his name, wouldn’t speak a word. He would just stand there, watching. Occasionally playing, but for the most part, the pale boy would just observe Yixing as they went about their business. 

Of course, when one is young, the existence of an imaginary friend is commonly accepted; expected even. 

As one grows older, they’re supposed to forget about fantasy; make real friends, form connections with living, breathing human beings. 

Yixing was always the weird kid; the ‘boy’ who wore nail polish, had long hair and talked to ‘himself’. Never looking others in the eye, but at an empty space just over their shoulder. 

They never really had friends as a kid, because who would want to talk to someone whose imaginary friend stuck around with them until their late teens?

It’s hard to diagnose childhood symptoms of Schizophrenia. 

How does a psychiatrist, a parent, or a teacher know the difference between psychosis and an overactive imagination? 

By the time the distinction was made with Yixing, the damage had been done. A once bright, happy child broke under the weight of the taunts of their peers, the dismissal of their problems by figures of authority. 

Yixing was sixteen, lonely, depressed -- liver damaged from all the paracetamol they had swallowed. Dumped in a ward where no one decided to visit them. 

Yixing was sixteen and ready to die when they met Luhan. A boy not unlike themself, they clung together for solidarity; young, misunderstood and mentally ill. 

Together, they experienced the ups and downs of each other’s illnesses. Luhan would hold Yixing as they cried, depression too much to handle or the mocking face of the boy toying with the frayed edges of their sanity. 

In turn, Yixing held his hand as Luhan was labeled with an increasing number of diagnosis’; depression, anxiety, ADHD, Anger issues, Schizoid Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder. The psychologists slapped label upon label onto poor Luhan, until one day at age twenty, Doctor Kim Junmyeon erased them all. 

“My new psych says I have Bipolar.” Luhan had said one day. “They’ve had their suspicions for a while, but apparently no one wanted to diagnose a kid so young.”

To others, receiving a diagnosis like Bipolar and being happy about it would seem strange. Who on earth would _want_ that kind of disorder; a never ending cycle of ups and downs-- a long term illness with life ruining side effects. 

But to Luhan, it was a relief, a light at the end of the tunnel. Finally, he knew what was wrong with him, and he could start on the path to recovery. 

It was a similar feeling for Yixing, who had spent four years listening to Luhan ask questions that no one knew the answer to. 

There are things about Luhan that only Yixing is privy to; secrets from a past he wants to forget. 

Luhan is everything to Yixing. And they have no idea what they’d do without him. 

\------

“God, I _love_ your fingers.” Sehun wonders how Tao can be both horny and recovering from ECT simultaneously. 

“Um, thank you?” He says, trying very hard not to focus on the fact that Tao is essentially giving his finger a hand job and trying to sleep. 

Sehun is still very confused as to where he stands with Tao. 

On one hand, his displays of physical affection have skyrocketed; casual hands resting on thighs, casually sitting on Sehun’s lap. Casually imitating sex acts on very un-sexy parts of Sehun’s body. 

But no goodnight or good morning kisses, no affirmation that they’re heading into sorta-kinda-boyfriend territory. 

In all honesty, Sehun feels like Tao is treating him like a hospital fling. 

Which, after nights of agonizing thoughts and awkward conversations about feelings with Jongin, isn’t really what he thought would happen. 

Still, it feels nice to be wanted. 

And it feels _really_ nice to have Tao’s ass rubbing against his dick like that. 

\------

“How are you feeling today, Jongin?” Joonmyeon begins their session with his standard phrase. Honestly, Jongin still doesn’t understand why the psychiatrist asks about feelings. He’s the guy that hands out pills, after all. 

“I’m starting to go crazy.” He replies. Joonmyun looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “I mean like, this place is too small. It’s boring.” 

“There are plenty of things to do here.” He replies with a laugh. “Cooking class is on today. Why don’t you attend?” 

“Kyungsoo runs cooking class.” Jongin says, deadpan. 

“Right.” Junmyeon coughs awkwardly. He’d completely forgotten about his patient's previous history with the nurse. “I could get you some leave tomorrow, if you wanted?”

“You’d do that for me?” Jongin seems surprised, if not disbelieving. 

“Unfortunately, considering the circumstances of your admission, you’d need supervision.” 

“It’s cool, I’ll just get Sehun to come with me.” He shrugs.

“No, Jongin.” The psychiatrist says gently, “Other patients don't count.”

“Oh.” He seems crestfallen. 

“Is there anyone you can call?” Junmyeon prompts, “Friend, family member?”

“I’ll ask my housemate. See if he’s free.” Jongin says after a moment. 

“I’ll write in your file that you can have escorted leave at any time within the next week. Just in case he can’t come in tomorrow.” The psychiatrist smiles, “Because you’re going to be under supervision, I can give you eight hours away from the hospital, is that okay?”

“Eight hours?” Jongin asks, “Doc that’s amazing, thank you.” 

“They’ll fly by.” He says, “So make them count.” 

“I will.” Jongin replies. 

_____

Chanyeol never knew depression was this taxing. It’s an effort to get out of bed, an effort to just go about his business. In the scheme of things, his condition is relatively mild, but it's still so God awful.

He has no idea how people with more extreme cases do it. 

Sehun, who describes his condition as “being at varying levels of suicidal at all times”, still holds a good job at an advertising company. Yixing, whose repeated attempts at overdosing will eventually result in a liver transplant, is currently working on their master’s degree in university. 

Chanyeol, who takes the smallest dose of the weakest antidepressant on the market, can't even find the energy to shower.

“Everyone experiences illness differently,” Minseok had explained during their first session, “You deal with Schizophrenia better than other patients we see, it's all relative.”

The thing is, for Chanyeol, Schizophrenia is normal. It’s just what he deals with on a day to day basis. He can't remember the times when his head was quiet, doesn't recall how it felt to be at ease, or trusting. 

He supposes that the others have come to term with their lot in life, that the feelings of emptiness and perpetual sadness are just as normal to them as the voices are to Chanyeol.

Maybe he'll get used to it, maybe he won't. 

All Chanyeol knows is that he just wants it to end.

______

** 2:00-3:00: GENDER DYSPHORIA IN MENTAL ILLNESS. **

Kris stares at the whiteboard in disbelief. Every day, the hospital holds support groups and meetings, all with various content. The younger patients attend a Youth Group three times a week. There's one for every sub category of mental illness; Chanyeol and Yixing attend a group to help deal with the symptoms of psychosis. Luhan and Tao attend meditation sessions designed especially for manic bipolar patients. 

Kris himself goes to a Combat PTSD meeting every Friday. 

It’s helping. 

He wonders if this support group is going to help Yixing.

\------

“Cooking class!” Chanyeol all but screams. 

Luhan winces. 

“I thought we'd agreed to sit this one out.” He replies. “Solidarity with Jongin and all that.”

“I don't know if I like Jongin enough to miss out on free cake.” Says Chanyeol solemnly. He shakes the last cigarette from his pack with a grimace. Someone will need to pick some more up for him; his leave time redacted in light of his recent diagnosis. 

“What’s so good about this cake, anyway?” Luhan asks, popping the menthol capsule between his teeth. “I tried to ask Kyungsoo, but all I got was some vaguely sexual groaning as he tried to describe the taste.” 

“All the more reason to go!” Chanyeol exclaims, gesturing wildly. Since his hair cut, the number of times he's almost burnt himself with a lit cigarette has decreased drastically. “If it’s good enough to make Kyungsoo orgasm, we can't miss out.” 

“It's not that great.” Jongin says, sinking into the seat next to Luhan. He rests his head on the other patient’s shoulder tiredly. “I mean, it's just cake.” 

“Super amazing orgasmic cake, apparently.” Chanyeol points out. “Don't tell me you didn't jizz in your pants like a teenager the first time Kyungsoo made it for you.” 

“I didn't.” Jongin deadpans.

“Did Kyungsoo make you jizz in your pants like a teenager _after_ you finished the cake?” He enquires. Jongin’s fists clench. Luhan laces their fingers together in response. 

“No.” Jongin spits. “No, he didn't.” 

“But did Kyungsoo ever---” 

“Chanyeol, drop it.” Luhan cuts in. 

Jongin wordlessly squeezes his hand in thanks.

“Alright, alright.” Chanyeol holds his hands up in surrender. The motion deposits ash onto his T-shirt. He doesn't bother to remove it. “I was just asking.” 

Honesty, Chanyeol’s sick of walking on eggshells around Jongin. So what if he has history with Kyungsoo? It was years ago, almost an age. It’s petty, _pathetic_ , that he's still holding onto the past to such a degree. 

In his opinion, Jongin needs to get over himself. He's not the only one hurting, suffering. He's not the only patient, and in the real world, not everyone is willing to cater to his every whim. 

Chanyeol’s going to cooking class.

And no one, not even Jongin and his _Woe Is Me_ attitude, is going to stop him.

\------

“You haven't looked homicidal all day, what gives?” Luhan barges into Yixing’s room unannounced. The scent of cigarette smoke clings to their clothes and Yixing scrunches their nose in distaste. They may be a smoker, but even so, the smell of stale smoke is unappealing to anyone. “Did they up your meds or something?” 

“No,” They let out a huff as Luhan all but collapses onto their stomach, “And what do you mean _homicidal_ , I'm the least dangerous patient in here.”

“I dunno,” Luhan says, voice muffled as he buries his face into Yixing’s blankets. “Sometimes you _kinda_ look like you want to blend Kris’ intestines into a smoothie, and make him drink it.” 

“ _I do not._ ” They reply, flicking Luhan in the ear. The squeal he lets out is decidedly unmasculine, and it makes Yixing chuckle. 

“You make Sehun look like a manic patient.” He deadpans. “I'm surprised you didn't try harder to make Kris like you, if I'm honest.” He says after a pause. 

“I don't need the approval of bigots.” They reply calmly. Initially, Yixing had tried to make Kris like them. Hospital, even ones as nice as Theta are cold, overwhelming, _terrifying_. There was the off chance that Kris was just scared; but he seemed to warm up to the others with no problem at all. It's just Yixing with whom he has a problem. 

“He's not a bigot,” Luhan says. “He's proved himself. He was just being a giant man baby when he came in.” He plays with Yixing’s fingers as they settle into silence. Luhan picks his next words carefully. 

“He's your type.” He whispers. Yixing jerks his hand away. 

“Physically, sure.” There's no reason to lie to Luhan. Sometimes it feels like he knows more about Yixing than they do about themselves. If Yixing lies, Luhan will pick up on it straight away. “But I don't find his personality all that appealing.” 

“So you _don't_ like big, goofy dorks, then?” Luhan asks. “Have you been lying to me all these years?” He wipes an imaginary tear from his eye, sighing gently. 

“That's not his personality and you know it.” Yixing refuses to look at him, they can't believe they're having this conversation, that their best friend would have the nerve to speak fondly of someone who makes them feel _unsafe_. 

“I spent an entire day with him. He's lovely. You'd know just how lovely he is if you pulled that pole out of your ass.” Yixing stares at him in shock. They’ve never fought before, not once have they and Luhan exchanged harsh words. Yet here they are, at the beginning of some petty argument because of _Kris_. 

“I can't _believe_ you.” Says Yixing, brows furrowing. “The nerve of you to say that honestly--”

“Xing,” Luhan cuts them off, eyes pleading. “You know I didn't mean it like that.” 

“Then what did you mean?” They say, sternly. They still haven't pushed Luhan off their lap, still clinging to the hope that this can be rectified, that their oldest and closest friend isn't turning on them. 

“He's changed. Changing. Or he's going back to the way he was before all the PTSD shit happened to him, I don't know.” Luhan sits up, pressing a kiss to Yixing’s forehead; an apology. “I think you two could be close, maybe even closer than we are, if you gave him a chance.” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Lu?” They ask, budding anger subsiding at the affection. “Because I can't leave you that easily.” 

Luhan hums in agreement, before kissing them sweetly. An overzealous display of affection so _typically_ Luhan. 

“Best friend title is taken.” Luhan whispers. “But the position of _Boyfriend_ is still open.” 

“He's straight, Luhan.” Yixing replies wearily. 

“ _Heteroflexible_.” He corrects with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “And you're genderflexible, it's a match made in heaven.” 

“Just because the nurses have cockblocked you, doesn't mean you have to interfere with the sex lives of other people.” Yixing reprimands gently. Luhan continues to wiggle his eyebrows, even as Yixing pushes him off the bed. 

“If I wanted to interfere with sex lives, I'd be following Tao and Sehun around. They've got some major sexual tension going on at the moment.” 

“I thought I saw a hickey behind Sehun’s ear, earlier.” Yixing supplies, and Luhan’s eyes light up in glee. 

“Good! If they'd taken any longer I'd have been forced to interfere.” He says, “But stop changing the subject. You should turn on the charm with Kris, see where it takes you.”

“No, Luhan. I'm here to get better, not find a boyfriend.” 

“Why not both?” 

“I'll be friendlier towards him, okay?” Yixing says defeatedly, “Will that do?” 

“For now.” Luhan replies, still grinning at them from the floor, “I can guarantee that once you get to know him, you'll be flirting anyway. So that's fine.” 

“Bite me.” Yixing says, flipping him off.

“Nah, I'll let Kris do the honours.”

Luhan scrambles from the room before Yixing can retaliate.

\------

Luhan feels like the female lead in some God awful drama. He's pinned up against the wall outside of Yixing’s room by a very seductive looking Jongin. 

There's a hand sliding up the back of his shirt, puffs of warm breath on his lips and a very attractive boy pressing against him. 

Luhan wonders what he’s done to deserve this. 

“Hey.” Jongin says lowly, playing with a lock of Luhan’s hair. This isn't the awkward kid Luhan saw choking on his first cigarette. And to be honest, he's into it. The kiss they shared the night before was supposed to be a one time thing, a sign of their budding friendship, and an appreciation of how good Jongin looks with that dusky pink hair. Apparently, the younger patient had other ideas.

“Well, _hey_ yourself.” Luhan all but purrs in response. He slides his hands down Jongin’s back, before grabbing hold of his ass and pulling their bodies together with a harsh tug. “What’s all this about?” 

Jongin doesn’t reply, dropping his head to the junction of Luhan’s neck; he kisses the skin softly, before taking a patch between his teeth and biting _hard_. Luhan gasps, and he can feel Jongin laughing against the wet skin. 

In retaliation, he wraps a leg around Jongin’s hip, pushing their crotches together. The laughter cuts off into a breathy moan as their half-hard erections make contact through the fabric. 

“ _Fuck_ , Luhan.” Jongin says, shifting his hips in search of satisfaction. Luhan idly wonders if they're going to stop any time soon-- not that he particularly wants to-- but they're in a public space, and another patient or nurse could walk past at any moment. 

On the other hand, he thinks as Jongin _finally_ connects their mouths in a sloppy, heated kiss. It feels too good for him to care at this point. 

Jongin’s tongue is sinful, one hand tugging lightly at his hair while the other grips his ass as they rut together. It's been a long time since Luhan’s had a makeout session like this. 

“Maybe,” He says, pulling away from Jongin with a gasping breath. The other patient hums in acknowledgment as he sucks on Luhan’s Adam’s apple, “Maybe we should take this to my room.” 

Luhan currently has no roommate, his former having been discharged earlier in the day.

“That would be much appreciated.” It’s not Jongin who speaks. Someone has walked in on them, and doesn't sound all that pleased about it. 

“Sorry, ‘Soo.” Jongin drawls. He doesn't turn to look at the nurse, choosing instead to lick a stripe up Luhan’s neck. 

Jongin misses the way Kyungsoo’s eyes darken in rage at the action. Luhan doesn't. 

“C’Mon, Nini.” Luhan whispers, “Let's take this elsewhere, hmm?” Kyungsoo still hasn't moved, still hasn't stopped looking at them like he wants to burn them alive. 

“After you, baby.” Kyungsoo inhales sharply at the term of endearment. Judging by the self-satisfied smirk on Jongin’s lips, it was intentional. 

 

_Just what are you playing at, Jongin?_ Luhan thinks to himself as he leads to younger away. Jongin can’t seem to keep his hands off him, there are hands on Luhan’s hips and a half-hard dick rubbing against his ass with every step. Jongin’s mouth attached to his neck as they awkwardly shuffle through the hall. 

But then, they round the corner and it all stops. Jongin retracts his hands, his mouth. He stops giggling into Luhan’s neck when he pauses to take a breath. 

He thinks nothing of it, the hallway they enter is filled with people, too many eyes, too much of an audience. 

“I need to talk to you.” Jongin whispers, “Where’s your room?” 

Luhan takes him by the hand, and Jongin flinches. Strange, considering he’d had his tongue in Luhan’s mouth not five minutes prior. Again, he thinks nothing of it. It’s not like Luhan to be concerned with things like this. Though admittedly, he’s grown fond of Jongin; not in a romantic sense, but in a brotherly kind of way. 

A brotherly kind of way that includes dry humping in the middle of the corridor, apparently. 

(Luhan has never pretended to be morally sound.) 

 

“So.” Luhan says, pushing Jongin onto the bed, moving to straddle the younger patient. Jongin’s hands come to rest on Luhan’s hips; he expects Jongin to slide his hands down to Luhan’s ass, to pull their bodies together once more. Luhan wants Jongin to whine and pant beneath him, to beg Luhan to touch him with his hands, his mouth. _Anything._

What Luhan doesn’t want, nor expect, is for Jongin to push him off, but that’s exactly what happens. 

“Sorry, I--” Jongin says, pushing a hand through his messy hair. “I should probably have explained first.” 

“No need.” Luhan says, puzzle pieces finally slotting into place, the location of their rendezvous, how Jongin had acted when they were caught. How he’d acted the second they were out of Kyungsoo’s sight. “You’re doing this to piss Kyungsoo off.” 

“No, that’s not it at all.” Jongin pulls Luhan close, drawing him into a hug. There’s nothing sexual about the action, just pure need for love and acceptance. “He needs to get over me. If he sees me with someone else, it might help.” 

“And you didn’t think to ask me?” Luhan huffs, but he’s not really that offended. “What if I was in love with you, and you’ve just broken my heart?” 

“Are you?” Jongin asks, eyebrow raised. 

“No, of course not. I don’t _do_ love.” Luhan says, waving a hand flippantly. He nearly hits Jongin in the face. 

“Then there’s nothing to be worried about.” His grin is blinding, contagious. Luhan can’t help but to grin back. 

“You can fill me in on the logistics later.” He says, moving to straddle the younger patient once again. “But I think we should continue where we left off.” 

Jongin looks at him, expression clear on his face. “Just in case Kyungsoo comes back, you know?” Luhan continues. Jongin licks his lips, before drawing him into a kiss. 

“I like that idea.” He says, threading his fingers through Luhan’s hair. “I like that idea a lot.” 

 

\------

Kris is in love. 

He wonders if it’s too soon to be coming to such rash conclusions, but then he looks at Yixing, the way they speak to the group, the way they bare their pain for this room of strangers and--- _Yeah_ , he thinks, _This is love._

The whole seminar had been Jongdae’s idea, apparently. A few of his patients had asked questions about Yixing, about the way they dressed, the way they looked. He had figured that it was best if Yixing had explained it all. 

They walk through the room, hands outstretched, palms facing downwards, encouraging their fellow patients to look at their hands, to look at the scars on their knuckles. 

“I punched the mirror.” They said softly, the woman they stand in front of begins to cry, tracing her fingertips along the small white lines. “I couldn’t recognize myself. I thought it was a monster.” 

The elderly man they see next holds their hand in a comforting manner. “I’m so crazy, I can’t decide if I’m a boy or a girl.” They say. 

“No, no you’re not.” He says. “You’re Yixing.” He echoes the words they spoke at the beginning of the seminar. 

They arrive at Kris, hands still outstretched. “It’s hard to deal with, sometimes.” They look him dead in the eye when they speak. Kris takes the opportunity to hold their hand. If Yixing is surprised, they don’t show it. “A lot of people aren’t comfortable with the way I dress.” 

They tug their hand free, still staring Kris straight in the eyes. “But that’s their problem. This is who I am, and being like this has made me so much happier than I could have ever imagined being.” 

“You’re beautiful.” Kris whispers. Yixing’s eyes widen, the only indication that they’d heard what he said. 

“This is who I am,” They continue, pointedly moving away from Kris and towards the front of the room. “I have my illness to blame for it, but I don’t mind. I feel free, I’m not weighed down by gender, or the expectations that stem from it. I’d get rid of everything else, if I could. If I could press a button and my schizophrenia, my depression, all of it would go away, I would in a heartbeat.” 

They pause to look around the room. “I’m sure the rest of you feel the same way.” 

The other patients chuckle, nodding in affirmation. 

“I’d keep this, though. I like being Genderfluid. I wouldn’t want to be any other way.”

Kris isn’t sure if he’d press the metaphorical button. He thinks about it as he watches the other patients file out of the room, pausing to shake Yixing’s hand, hug them, or just thank them for a wonderful seminar. 

As much as he hates his PTSD, without it he’d never have met Yixing. 

And Kris would take all the flashbacks, all the mood swings; he’d take anything and everything his awful disease could throw at him, if only Yixing would look at him. 

\------

“You trained him well.” Luhan says brightly, moving past Kyungsoo as he heads towards the smoker’s courtyard. 

Kyungsoo seethes. 

He can only assume what happened. He had seen them in that hallway, Jongin with his mouth on Luhan’s throat, his hands on Luhan’s body. 

It’s not his place to be jealous, he knows this. _He_ broke up with Jongin, and it was pitiful, pathetic to assume that he wasn’t alone in thinking that their separation was a mistake. 

But Jongin had looked so wrecked, so passionate. 

He never looked like that with Kyungsoo, so wild with reckless abandon, so absorbed in the moment that he didn’t notice the presence of another person. 

 

“Get Luhan out of here.” He hisses at Baekhyun, his hands curl at the collar of his best friends shirt. “Please, just transfer him out.” 

“Why?” Baekhyun says, prying Kyungsoo’s death grip off his shirt. “What’s he done this time?” 

“I caught him with Jongin again.” He says, voice pained. He’s trying not to cry. “Anyone else and I wouldn’t have cared. I can’t stand to see him with Jongin.” 

Baekhyun looks at him with pity. “Please.” 

“No.” He says, bluntly. 

“Why not? You said he was on thin ice. This should be enough to get him transferred.” Kyungsoo pleads. 

“If we send him to _The Royal_ , he’ll be out within days. He’s not sick enough for that kind of ward. If they still think he’s a problem, they’ll send him to _Our Ladies_. But as we know, his mother is a fucking psych ward nurse there, and it’s a conflict of interest. Send him away now, he’ll either be back here within the week, or back out in the real world well before he’s ready.” Baekhyun hisses, dragging Kyungsoo into the admissions office and away from curious eyes and ears. 

“I can’t do this, Baek. It hurts so much.” Kyungsoo whimpers. 

“I know, but you just have to deal with it.” Baekhyun says. “Jongin has obviously moved on, why can’t you?” 

\------

_One, two, one, two, one, two._

Yixing wakes in the middle of the night to voices. 

“You didn’t join me, so I made a friend.” Yixing squeezes their eyes closed, they refuse to acknowledge the voice, refuse to even look. 

“You’re taking too long. Why won’t you join me?” 

They sob into their pillow. 

Apparently the boy has learnt how to talk. 

A laugh echoes through the room, high pitched, feminine. Yixing’s skin crawls. 

He’s learnt to talk, and he’s made a friend.

\------------------------------------------------------------


	16. Day Fifteen: Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Persuasion:**   
>  _Deliberate efforts to change attitudes._

**From: Taemin**   
_I am so lost._

**To: Taemin**   
_Where are you?_

**From: Taemin**  
 _If I knew, I wouldn’t be lost, would I?_

Jongin laughs out loud. He’s so inexplicably happy. For the first time in two weeks, he’s finally earnt his freedom. Well, it’s not _really_ freedom; Taemin has to closely monitor his every movement, but he’s looking forward to eight hours out of hospital. Eight glorious hours back in the real world and away from Kyungsoo.

He pulls himself into a standing position, the after affects of sleep medication still coursing through his system; Jongin feels awkward and heavy, but he motivates his limbs to move, making his way as swiftly as possible through the stark white halls of the hospital as he searches for Taemin.

There’s two entrances to the hospital-- one that opens into the reception area, with its plush carpets and landscape paintings, and another that leads to the winding staircase and window loft Luhan is so fond of. 

Jongin is willing to bet that Taemin has walked through the latter, considering his disorientation; had he seen the receptionists, they would have directed him straight to Jongin’s room, maybe with a flirtatious smile to send him on his way. 

Mentally imagining the hospital’s floor plan, Jongin treks towards the path he assumes Taemin has taken, stopping momentarily in front of Chanyeol’s room to enjoy the soft strums of his guitar that seem to permanently emanate as of late.

Someone presses the nurse’s call button; cheerful tone echoing through the hospital as several frantic nurses hurriedly scuttle past. Funny, that such an upbeat tune can often represent the most sombre situations; a panic attack, a flashback, some sort of frightful psychosis. Then again, Theta tries so hard to make people forget that they’re in a hospital, what with its soft carpets and colourful artworks. A non-invasive, tinkling tune to alert nurses of a possible medical emergency is just another way of hiding the hospital’s true nature. Jongin vaguely registers Baekhyun amongst the throng of bustling nurses, their quick tempo and solemn expressions contrasting with the bell ringing repeatedly through the halls. 

And then he hears it, the reason behind the alarm; shouting resonates from a room further down the hallway, and one of the voices sounds suspiciously like Taemin’s. 

Jongin matches the nurse’s pace, tripping over lethargic feet as he rushes to save Taemin from whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into. 

“-- doing my job!” The heated conversation fades from yells in the distance to become fragments of conversation for Jongin to overhear. His stomach sinks, because surely, the second voice he hears belongs to none other than Kyungsoo. 

“Bullshit.” Taemin hisses, loud enough for Jongin -- and the nurses -- to overhear. 

“It’s okay, guys.” Baekhyun says loudly, addressing the other nurses. “I’ve got this one. I’ll call again if things get out of control.” 

Jongin catches up to Baekhyun as the other nurses retreat, grumbling lowly about missing out on prime hospital gossip. 

“I’m assuming he’s yours?” Baekhyun says, shooting Jongin a look as he pushes the door open. 

“You ruined him, you piece of shit.” Taemin’s hand is fisted in the front of Kyungsoo’s shirt; it’s not a particularly threatening gesture, his hands curled loosely around the cotton. It is, however, in close enough proximity to be seen as a warning, one wrong word and Taemin is ready to clench his hands that little bit tighter, lash out with more than words. 

“Please remove your hands from my nurse, or I’ll have to ask you to leave.” Baekhyun says calmly, guiding Jongin into the room with a palm splayed along his lower back. “I’ve brought your puppy, so run along and sign those leave papers. The girls at reception will hand you his leash.” 

“Are all the nurses here tiny, patronising assholes?” Taemin asks Jongin, finally releasing his hold on Kyungsoo’s shirt. 

“Pretty much.” Jongin replies, “Now stop causing trouble and give me a hug.” 

The resulting embrace pulls air from Jongin’s lungs, his best friend wrapping his arms around Jongin’s midsection tight enough to restrict airflow. Taemin isn’t crying, but the shuddering breaths Jongin feels against his neck indicate that he’s trying very hard not to. 

“Are you done with your little tantrum?” Baekhyun asks, the patient’s room is thankfully empty-- Jongin assumes Taemin had accosted Kyungsoo in the hallway, leading the nurse to hurriedly press the nearest call button. Baekhyun is acting in what is frankly, an unacceptable and unprofessional manner. For the first time, Jongin sees Baekhyun taking a biased stance in any issue regarding their messy past. 

“I don’t know, are you done being an asshole?” Taemin snarks in response, refusing to let go of Jongin as he glare at the nurse over his shoulder. 

“I’m assuming you’re Jongin’s housemate, judging by your reaction.” Baekhyun continues, “But what you need to know is that Kyungsoo is a trained professional, and if his previous history comes to light in a negative manner, it will _not_ be beneficial for Jongin.” 

“Are you threatening me?” Taemin bristles, shooting a sharp glare at the two nurses. “I could report you for this.” 

“If any problem arises due to their _history_ ,” Baekhyun says, flicking his finger between Kyungsoo and Jongin, “Then little Nini gets sent to a locked ward. Nasty places, those.”

“What?” Jongin asks, “No one told me about this.”

“You had no reason to know until now.” Kyungsoo says quietly, though his face is schooled into passive professionalism. Jongin can’t read a single emotion that flickers through his eyes. 

“I-- Jesus Christ, Taem. Let’s just go.” Jongin, lost for words, pulls Taemin away from the nurses and in the direction of the receptionists office. 

Theta is suffocating him; the sooner he leaves, the better. 

\------

“Hello, handsome.” Tao all but purrs as he slips into bed next to Sehun. Tao’s hand slides down Sehun’s torso, slipping beneath the waistband of his sweats and gliding along the skin of his thighs. Sehun gasps, choking on air as Tao’s hands wander closer to his crotch; delicate fingers tracing the edge of his underwear, pinky swiping along the line of his cock through cotton. 

“Please.” He groans in desperation, utterly at the mercy of Tao and his beautiful hands. There’s a hot, wet mouth on his neck and Sehun keens loudly as Tao sucks a mark into the skin.

As soon as it begins, the hand retreats, Tao’s breathy giggles hitting the wet patch he left behind with his teeth and tongue. 

“C’mon,” He says, pulling at Sehun’s hand. “Let’s go smoke.” 

Sehun squints at Tao in disbelief, watching his fellow patient stretch as he stands, meandering towards the door with a seductive sway of his hips. 

“Coming?” Tao asks, shooting Sehun a sultry glance over his shoulder, biting hard into his plush bottom lip and licking over the area as it swells. 

It’s a battle of wits, a game of cat and mouse. Tao is playing with him, Sehun realises. They’ll talk about their feelings later, once the sexual tension has simmered down. Smirking, he makes to follow Tao to the courtyard. 

If Tao wants to play, Sehun will play.

_Game on._

\------

The air smells different outside of hospital, Kris realises. It feels like years since he’s been out and about in public; the exhaust fumes he breathes feeling more like fresh air than toxic gas as it hits his lungs. He’s finally been granted a brief window of leave, allowing him to awkwardly shuffle to the store nearby in search of cigarettes and Chanyeol’s extensive list of snacks. Surprisingly, Yixing has joined him on the stroll, their appearance uncharacteristically sloppy, demeanour meek and untalkative.

Kris’ cane clicks along the sidewalk as he moves at a brisk pace, though not by choice. For someone so much shorter than him, Yixing sure walks with determination. They stroll quickly and with purpose, rushing to nowhere. 

“You’ve got the cane again, what’s up with that?” They cut the silence, flicking a glance in Kris’ direction. He wonders why Yixing is joining him, wasting precious leave time to walk along with Kris in silence. 

“I need it to walk any long distances, my knee still hasn’t healed properly.” Yixing nods in understanding, eyes flicking around nervously, picking at the palms of their hands in distress. Kris wants to ask what’s wrong, but he’s not sure if they’ll tell him, anyway.

“Could-- could you slow down a little bit?” Kris asks, stumbling slightly as Yixing increases their pace once more, almost breaking out into a slow jog. “I can’t really keep up.” 

“Sorry, it’s just-- they’re here, and I--” Yixing’s words break into an incomprehensible babble, words spilling from their mouth in a nonsensical manner. Kris approaches them hesitantly; he wants to comfort them, pull Yixing into his arms and run his hands through their hair. He contemplates pulling his phone from his pocket, calling the hospital and requesting a nurse to collect Yixing; they’re obviously not okay, and being outside isn’t safe. 

“You’re strong right?” They ask, linking Kris’ arm with their own and hugging the appendage to their chest. “You can protect me, right?” 

“Of course,” Kris replies with what he hopes is a comforting tone of voice, “I can protect you.” 

Yixing’s rapid breathing hits his shoulder, and Kris takes a risk, pulling Yixing to his chest and wrapping his free arm around their shaking form. His cane hits their back, but they don’t seem to register the contact at all. 

“Do you want to go back?” Kris asks, holding them a little tighter as he whispers in their ear, “I can call for a nurse, if you want?” 

“No.” Yixing shakes their head, adamant. “Hospital is too small, and there are too many of them.” 

“Too many of what?” Kris frowns in concern. 

“Kids. There are too many kids for such a small space.” Yixing says, gesturing behind them with a flick of their wrist. “They’re laughing at me, I can’t believe they’re old enough to talk.” 

“Nope, we’re going back.” Kris replies, adamantly. Yixing can’t be outside in this state, they need PRN and they need it immediately. 

He goes to pull away, ready to lead Yixing back to hospital; he’s cutting his precious leave time with the backtrack, but he can’t bring himself to care-- Yixing is important, so important, and he’s not going to jeopardize their health in order to buy himself a pack of smokes. 

“Don’t let go, Kris. I’m not safe here, I’m not safe--” They cling tighter, breaking into distressed babbling once more. 

“But we need to walk, baby.” Kris curses himself for the slip up, it’s not the time for language like that, and in a more stable frame of mind, he’s sure Yixing wouldn’t appreciate the term of endearment. “I can hold your hand if you want?” 

“Okay.” They whisper, grabbing hold of Kris’ hand and squeezing tightly. “I’ll hold your hand.” 

It’s not a long journey, they’d barely made it five minutes away from the ward when Yixing’s attack struck, but Yixing clings to him the whole way, eyes wide and alert, constantly in search of invisible danger. 

 

Kyungsoo frets over Yixing when they re-enter the hospital, loading a paper cup full of orange pills Kris immediately recognises as Seroquel; 700, 800, 900mg. Pill after pill drop into the paper holder and Yixing gulps them all down with ease. 

“Thank you for looking after them,” Kyungsoo says, watching Yixing sway as they return to their room, ready for the medication to kick in, seeking their bed so that may sleep the hallucinations away. “You’re a good guy.” 

Kris only wishes he could help more.

\------

“I feel like I’m watching some sort of bizarre mating ritual.” Luhan laments, eyes narrowing in confusion. Beside him, Chanyeol is displaying equal levels of perplexity, eyes bulging and mouth wide open. He tilts his head so far to the side that he nearly falls face first into Luhan’s lap. 

On the bench adjacent, they watch as a very smug looking Sehun pinches and rolls Tao’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger; the movement of Sehun’s arm pulls Tao’s T-shirt upwards, exposing the smooth skin of his stomach. 

They’re whispering to each other, too quiet for Chanyeol and Luhan to hear; as Tao lets out a breathy moan in response to something Sehun says, they both silently agree that maybe, it’s for the best if they don’t know. 

“I’m straight,” Chanyeol says, eyes never wavering from the spectacle in front of him, “But I am strangely okay with this.” 

“Live twink porn.” Luhan nods, swallowing thickly as Tao’s hand comes to rest on Sehun’s inner thigh. “Usually you’d have to pay for this.” 

The breathy moan Tao gives out at Sehun drags his teeth down his earlobe has Chanyeol scrambling from his seat. 

“As hot as this is,” He says, running a hand through already messy hair, “I feel like I’m intruding or something.” 

“You’re not intruding,” Tao says with a smirk as he fiddles with the inseam of Sehun’s sweat pants, “He likes it when people watch.”

“Not with you, though.” Sehun says, ignoring Chanyeol’s pained choking and Luhan’s raised eyebrow. He rests his head on Tao’s shoulder, looking at him almost innocently. He rolls the nipple between his fingers sharply, and Tao whines through puffy, bitten lips. “I want to be the only one who sees your face when you come.” 

“And I’m out!” Chanyeol yells, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation, “I’m out, I’m done, goodbye, and for the love of God, _please_ don’t stain the seats.”

The door slams behind him as he leaves, glass window panes rattling in his haste to escape.

“What’s his dick like, Tao?” Luhan asks as the noise dies down, equal parts curious and with a thirst for instigation. Whatever’s going on between his fellow patients has not culminated into anything solid; that much is for sure. When all the lust simmers into a sickeningly sweet relationship, Luhan wants claim some sort of role in their eventual copulation. 

“I don’t know.” Tao says, shrugging. He’s trying to act nonchalant, but the flush of his cheeks and quickening of breath give him away. 

“Yet.” Sehun says casually, shifting his hips so that Tao’s hands trail just that little bit higher on his thigh. 

“That seems like a pretty clear invitation.” Luhan points out, gesturing vaguely towards Sehun’s crotch. 

Tao swallows thickly, fingers shaking as they trail higher and higher. He hesitates, taking a steadying breath as the digits hover over the tenting bulge in Sehun’s pants. 

Luhan leans forwards in interest, Sehun spreading his legs and tilting his head back in anticipation. 

Tao’s hand comes to rest on Sehun’s cock; slender fingers sliding along the length; teasing, testing. Sehun breathes out a shaky exhale, fingernails digging into the wooden bench as Tao flattens his palm, cupping him through the fabric. 

“Good?” Luhan prompts, a twinkle in his eye. Tao jerks the cock in his hands through the fabric; once, twice -- just a tease, before pulling away. 

“Very good.” He says, addressing Luhan but looking only at Sehun. “I’m very happy with my findings.” 

“I expect a full report on my desk tomorrow morning.” Luhan continues, smirking with mirth at Sehun’s wrecked form. His fellow patient is flushed, breathing heavily, eyes still closed and reeling from the contact. 

“You don't even have a desk.” Sehun mutters, a single eyelid opening to regard Luhan’s smug form on the adjacent bench.

Stubbing his cigarette into the ashtray Luhan stands, brushing invisible dirt from his clothes. 

“I'll leave you kids to it.” He says with a wink, tracing the Chanyeol’s path from moments before. “Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” 

“You're a depraved sex addict.” Sehun deadpans, curling into Tao’s side and playing with the hem of his shirt. “I can't think of anything you wouldn't do.” 

“I think that's the point.” Tao says, watching Luhan’s face light up. “He _wants_ us to fuck in the courtyard.” 

“Now, I didn't say _that_.” Luhan replies, gripping the door handle loosely. “But I do think you two should work on getting rid of that sexual tension. I'm suffocating here.” 

“Go choke on a dick.” Sehun mumbles, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his lighter. 

“Nah, I'll let you do the honours.” Luhan cackles, breaching the entryway and closing the door behind him. 

Sehun’s disgruntled retorts, whatever they may be, are muffled through layers of wood and glass. 

\------

Yixing’s psychosis, at least, according to Minseok, most likely appear the way they do due to Yixing’s fascination with horror films. 

The little boy greatly resembles the small child from _The Grudge_ \-- wide, deep set eyes and pale bloated skin. His female counterpart could easily portray the antagonist from _The Ring_ with her long, black hair that drapes over her face and her broken, rotting nails. 

Even their actions have horror film counterparts, their matching speech and perpetually linked hands awfully reminiscent of the twins from _The Shining._

But Yixing has long since grown tired of horror films, especially considering that their life resembles one, uncannily so.

The children break into song, a garbled language that Yixing just cannot understand; the haunting tune ringing out in the small confines of their hospital room.

They liked it better when they were mute, silent judging figures watching Yixing’s every waking hour. 

They're nameless, the children, for Yixing refuses to attach sentimentality to them, they will not develop a twisted sense of Stockholm syndrome to the tormentors of their sanity. 

The children are not manifestations of of childish fear and pop culture references, Yixing is sure of it. They are reapers, symbols of death with the intention of collecting their soul.

_Join us_ , Yixing hears them chant through their made up language, _We are so lonely._

Yixing pulls their pillow over their head, cotton muffling the children as they sing. They sob; tears wetting the sheets beneath their head. 

These children, they will not leave, and they will never be satisfied until Yixing joins them in death.

\------

“Hey,” Chanyeol says, catching Kris by the wrist as he passes, “I'd avoid the courtyard unless you want an eyeful.” 

“Duly noted.” Kris replies, turning about face and joining Chanyeol as he wanders through the halls, “An eyeful of what, exactly?” 

“Tao and Sehun’s weird ass flirting.” Chanyeol grimaces.

He leads Kris around several corners, the soldier realizing that they're heading in the direction of the front courtyard, seemingly to smoke without the presence of unresolved sexual tension. 

“Do I want to know?” Kris asks, nodding in thanks as Chanyeol opens the door for him, the two patients squinting as their eyes adjust to the sunlight. 

“Probably not.” Chanyeol admits. “I left them alone with Luhan, and he probably convinced them to do something weird.” 

“Yeah.” Kris agrees, fumbling around in his pockets for his carton of cigarettes. “He’s rather persuasive.” 

“How’d you deal with his attention?” Chanyeol enquires, mumbling around the end of his unlit cigarette. “He was all over you a few days ago.” 

“I was passive.” Kris shrugs as he exhales, flicking excess ash into the garden bed. “I let him do what he wanted until he got bored and left me alone.” 

“He’s like that.” Chanyeol says, looking off into the distance, and for the first time Kris sees a glimpse of Chanyeol’s personality behind the persona he displays. Sure, he's the life of the party, a jokester; but behind that, Chanyeol is someone who observes, understands, and reads people with practiced ease. Surely, Chanyeol knows more about the patients in Theta than the psychologists do. “Luhan is fickle, terrified of commitment.” 

“How do you know?” Kris feels like the John Watson to Chanyeol’s Sherlock Holmes-- he wants to know what he sees when he looks at the people around him.

“He says he's straight, but we all know he's not.” Chanyeol says, ashing his cigarette distractedly, “He says that to guys so they won't expect commitment.” 

“And girls?” Kris asks, leaning forward as if Chanyeol’s knowledge will sink in more effectively with the increased proximity. 

“I'm not sure,” He says carefully, “One night stands, probably.” 

Kris hums non-committedly, watching the setting sun as it sinks below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of pink and gold. 

“He wants to be loved, but he's terrified of it, too.” Chanyeol continues, voice softer and more serious than Kris has ever heard it, “But then again, that kind of mentality? It comes with the diagnosis.” 

“Bipolar?” Kris extinguishes the spent butt, before lighting another. Conversations such as these promote chain smoking; heavy information interrupted by well timed exhales, something to fiddle with when the topic is too intense. 

“Nah. All of us.” Chanyeol says, eyes trained on the ground as he continues, “We're all too fucking broken to be in relationships.” 

“Don't you have a girlfriend?” Kris doesn't remember her name, but Chanyeol speaks fondly of her whenever she's mentioned. It doesn't seem like a toxic relationship, nothing to warrant the kind of opinions Chanyeol seems to hold.

“She’s one of us.” He continues, “Schizoaffective, like Yixing.” 

“If your disorders are so similar, then shouldn’t it be easier?” Kris prompts, honestly confused. He’s come to expect difficulties when connecting with neurotypical people, not those who are more like Chanyeol and himself. Wouldn’t it make sense for those with similar experiences to become closer? Wouldn’t a relationship between two neurodivergent people be far healthier?

“Not really.” Chanyeol blows rings of smoke into the early evening air, “We feed off each other’s paranoia, sometimes encouraging thoughts and ideas that morph into symptoms of relapse.” 

Conversation stalls. The silence is filled by passing cars, the soft chirping of birds in the trees lining the sidewalk, the occasional flicking of a lighter as the patients indulge in their vice. 

“Love doesn’t exist for the mentally ill.” Chanyeol says finally, crushing the cigarette butt into the ashtray with an excessive amount of force. “I think the disease takes it away from us. When we think we’re in love we’re really just feeling some twisted sort of emotional dependence; like, we’re using others to make ourselves feel better.” 

“That can’t be true.” Kris says, he tries not to think of Yixing, but fails miserably. 

“You ever been in love?” Chanyeol asks, his frown deep set, calculating. 

“I--” 

“Think real hard before you answer.” Kris is cut off before he can reply, “If you think you’re in love, try and separate what you _think_ you feel from all that desperation, that _need_ to find approval and affection and self-esteem from someone else.” 

Chanyeol stands, he makes no motion for Kris to follow him. In fact, it seems like Chanyeol wants to be alone, hastily retreating from the heavy tone of their conversation. “People like us, we only want relationships because we suck positivity from other people. We can’t feel those things ourselves, so we have our significant others feel it for us.” 

He pulls the door open with a jerk, deep set frown and judging eyes still set on Kris, “Make sure you remember that.”

\------

“I haven’t seen Jongin all day.” Luhan muses, he pushes the food around on his plate with disinterest. The food at Theta is leagues better than standard hospital food, though it still possesses the distinct grey shade of overcooked, mass prepared meals. 

“Day leave.” Sehun grunts. Tao smiles knowingly, and Luhan watches as his hand shifts slightly under the table. 

“He’s a little late for day leave, don’t you think?” Luhan pushes, blatantly ignoring what is transpiring between his fellow patients. It was cute before, but now their flirting is bordering on nauseating. 

“He left at midday, and he’s got eight hours.” Sehun supplies, voice clipped. He’s trying to keep a straight face, but failing miserably. “He’ll be back at around eight..”

“Shame.” Luhan sighs, “He’s missing out on this _delicious_ hospital food.” 

He pushes something vaguely green into something that’s supposed to be some sort of sauce, grimacing as the vegetable slides across the porcelain with an un-appetizingly sticky sound.

The table is nearly empty, Chanyeol and Yixing electing to eat in their rooms, and Kris taking one look at the food before muttering something unintelligible, making himself three cups of decaf coffee, and walking out in the direction of the courtyard. Luhan is stuck with the newlyweds and mystery meat. _Wonderful._

“Still, I told him to text me.” Luhan whines, pushing his plate as far away from him as physically possible. Maybe dessert will yield something a little more edible. “But he hasn’t said anything all day.”

“What makes you so special?” Tao asks, eyebrow raised in Luhan’s direction, “Why should he be texting _you_ of all people?” 

“Yeah, why would he talk to you when he doesn’t have to?” Sehun adds. Luhan was so supportive of their relationship, but if Sehun and Tao are going to keep ganging up on him like this, he hopes they have a short relationship with a messy breakup and someone gaining herpes from the entire ordeal. 

“We have something _special_.” Luhan sneers, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

Tao’s hand starts moving under the table again, both the younger patients peering at him with identical expressions of mirth. 

“Okay, maybe you do.” Luhan mutters under his breath. 

Ignoring the other patients, Luhan all but inhales three bowls of cake; cream and icing filling his stomach with less upset than the offered dinner. What remains of his appetite is filled with unease; there’s something wrong with Jongin, he just knows it. 

He checks his phone for the umpteenth time and sighs. 

Three hours to go.

\------

Yixing’s hair is unwashed, greasy strands hanging limply around their face. They possess none of their usual effortless grace, form swamped by oversized clothes stained with paint. The hoodie they wear belongs to Chanyeol, it’s warm and comfortable -- much like Chanyeol himself -- and Yixing feels safe and protected while they wear it. 

They light a cigarette with shaking hands, their earlier dosage of Seroquel has left them feeling like a zombie; limbs heavy and vision blurring, they can’t concentrate while the last remnants of the drug still courses through their system. But their craving for nicotine is high, their need for physical affection even higher, so they curl into Luhan’s side as much as possible; the steady beat of his heart drowning out the children as they sing their macabre lullaby. 

Sitting on the empty bench, they screech in their made up language, laughing at Yixing as they tremble in Luhan’s hold. The medication does nothing to ease their presence, only dulling Yixing’s perception of them, but even under the effects of antipsychotics, they still can sense the dual presence wherever they go, always watching, always singing. 

“Are you okay?” Luhan asks, his fingers catching in the knots of Yixing’s hair. They wince at the pressure on their scalp, the motions causing sharp pains. It’s something they can feel that's not fear, so Yixing welcomes the discomfort. 

They can’t find the motivation to speak, lips as heavy as their limbs, so they settle for shaking their head rapidly, the hands in his hair pulling through tangles and snapping strands. 

“Is he here?” Yixing doesn’t know how long Kris has been sitting with them, a solid presence suddenly manifesting to their left. Has he been there long? Is his presence recent? Yixing doesn’t know. They become aware of pressure against the soles of their feet, their toes pressing into the side of his thigh. 

“There’s two now.” Yixing says, though they’re unsure of how well the words come out, potentially jumbled by the medication, or muffled as they speak into Luhan’s shoulder. “A boy and a girl.”

“ _Shit._ ” Luhan hisses. Maybe Yixing’s speech is more capable than they had assumed, “Have you told the psychs?” 

“Yeah.” They reply, “They know.” 

Luhan frets, trying to rearrange Yixing so that they sit in his lap. But it’s wrong, Luhan is safe, but the children know him, they do not fear him at all. He is also too small, too similar to Yixing’s size. They want to hide, be surrounded by big things that can scare the children away. Big clothes, big people. 

They push Luhan’s hands away. 

Kris’ arms are long, his frame broad. He’s the perfect hiding place. They’re apprehensive, of course they are, for Kris once represented fear and danger. But now the children distance themselves from him, they grow quiet in his presence. 

Without second thought, they climb into Kris’ lap, looping their arms around his shoulders and pressing their face against his neck. He’s so warm, even warmer than Chanyeol’s hoodies. There are hands running along Yixing’s spine to comfort them; the gentle touch works to ease the fear. 

Yixing notices that they’ve started to cry, tears adhering the hair to their face; they make no effort to wipe them away, too absorbed by the conflicting emotions running through their head. 

Lips press against their neck, softly at first but progressively harder as Yixing does not resist. Tilting their head to the side, Yixing allows Kris to mouth along the skin he finds, they find comfort in the affection. It feels wonderful; their neck has always been sensitive, and if they were more aware of their surroundings then the situation might be downright pleasurable. 

But for now, it’s calming, soothing, something to ease the feeling of helplessness.

They feel Kris pulling away with a start, the hands on their back unmoving, uncertain. It’s obvious that Kris thinks he’s overstepped some kind of boundary, letting his hold fall lax so that Yixing may escape if they want to. 

“Thank you.” They whisper into his ear, kissing him softly on the cheek as reassurance. Kris has done nothing wrong, in fact he’s been more than helpful. 

Yixing curls into Kris once more, their fear ebbing away into drowsiness. The steady rise and fall of Kris’ chest easing them into a light slumber. 

\------

This is it. The culmination of days worth of sexual tension, of teasing. Sehun’s thigh presses into Tao’s as they sit on the wooden bench, his arm wrapped around Tao’s shoulder as they smoke in the privacy of the front courtyard. 

“So.” Sehun says, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground, turning to face Tao as he speaks. 

“So.” Tao parrots in reply. He takes one last draw before extinguishing his own cigarette, raising an eyebrow at Sehun in a non-verbal challenge. 

“Should we talk about this?” Sehun gestures between them with his free hand, the other playing with the ends of Tao’s hair. 

“What’s there to talk about?” Tao tries to sound carefree, but his voice wavers. There’s a lot to talk about; where they stand with each other, if they’re just a hospital fling or have the potential for something more substantial. He’s terrified of Sehun’s answer. Tao has fallen hard for a man who doesn’t seem to fall at all; Sehun has told the group time and time again that he has very little interest in dating, but Tao wants nothing more than to call Sehun _his_. Despite Jongin’s assurance, Tao is skeptical-- he honestly doesn’t think he’s _special_ enough to be the person Sehun breaks his rules for. 

“I don’t like relationships.” Sehun says, confirming Tao’s worst fears. He tries not to flinch, attempts to hide his hurt. 

“That’s fine, I guess.” Tao says. It’s awfully masochistic, but he’d rather have Sehun for a short period of time than not at all. It could potentially break him; but Sehun is his dream man, the physical manifestation of his pre-pubescent fantasies. Tao’s built himself a good life, but he’s so lonely, he just wants someone to share it with. 

“Is it really?” Sehun tilts his face towards Tao’s, eyes dropping to his lips. They haven’t kissed yet, not properly. Everything between them has been wandering hands and marks sucked into necks. Acts of lust, nothing more. And Tao wants _more_.

“No.” Tao whispers. “It’s not.”

“You wanna date me, Tao?” Sehun’s mocking him, of course he is. But he’s not a malicious person, and the finger tips that trail over Tao’s cheek are soft, tender. 

“Yeah.” Tao replies, and Sehun’s breath hitches on the inhale. “What do _you_ want?”

“Right now?” Sehun asks. He slides his hands into Tao’s hair, pressing a kiss against his jugular. “Right now I want to kiss you.” 

Sehun noses along Tao’s jaw, nipping lightly at his earlobe. “Maybe something a little more than kissing.”

“That’s not an answer.” Tao laughs despite himself, the puffs of air against his neck indicate that Sehun is laughing too. 

“Whatever you want, that’s what I want, too.” Sehun says softly, pulling Tao in for a kiss. It lacks the lust, the hunger Tao was expecting for the first meeting of their lips. It’s gentle, almost loving, sexual tension melting away into something more intimate as their lips slide together. 

Pulling away, Sehun rests his forehead against Tao’s. “I’m not gonna want to stop doing that, you know.” 

“That’s okay with me.” Tao replies, leaning forwards to kiss him again.

“Are we going to be one of those unbearably cute couples?” Sehun asks, tucking a strand of hair behind Tao’s ear, tracing a thumb over the curve of his cheek. 

“If that’s what you want.” Tao’s smile is blinding, so overwhelmed by happiness. 

“Yeah.” Sehun says, and he’s smiling too. “Yeah, that’s what I want.”

\------

Kyungsoo’s day has been, for lack of a better word, boring. With Jongin on leave, there was no reason to tread lightly, no drama during his shift at the hospital. Sauce simmers on the stove as he prepares his dinner, ready to settle down in front of the television before going to bed. An uneventful evening to finish an uneventful day. 

His phone vibrates on the table, indicating a phone call. Kyungsoo ignores it. Baekhyun’s been calling him almost constantly for the past half hour, and he just isn’t in the right mindset to deal with his friend’s constant nagging about Jongin; what Kyungsoo is and is not doing right, trying to interfere with something that is really _not_ his business. 

The vibrating stops, then immediately starts again. Kyungsoo eyes the phone with distaste, pausing for a moment before answering with hesitance. 

“This is unorthodox, but considering what has happened, we need you to know now and we need your help.” Baekhyun’s voice sounds panicked, frantic on the end of the line. Kyungsoo regrets not answering sooner. 

“What--”

“Has Jongin ever mentioned friends to you that Taemin might not know?” Baekhyun cuts him off. 

“The only friend of Jongin’s I ever met was Taemin.” Kyungsoo replies tersely, unsure of the point to Baekhyun’s phone call.

“Did he ever-- Has he ever mentioned any locations to you?” Baekhyun pushes, almost hysterically, “Does he have a special place in mind for his next suicide attempt?” 

“Baek, what’s all this about?” Kyungsoo’s grip tightens around his phone. He’s got his suspicions, but he hopes to God that they’re wrong--- 

“Taemin says he dropped Jongin off at the hospital at around three o’clock. They had a fight, and Jongin asked to be taken back.” Baekhyun says quietly. “Only, he never made it inside.” 

“Oh _God_.” Kyungsoo’s eyes fly to the clock in his kitchen, the hands indicating that it’s nearly eleven o’clock. _Eight hours._

“ ‘Soo,” Baekhyun draws in a shuddering breath. “Jongin’s missing.” 

Kyungsoo’s phone drops to the floor with a clatter, the screen shatters on impact but he can’t find it within himself to care. 

Baekhyun’s concerned yells echo out through the speaker, and into Kyungsoo’s empty apartment.


	17. Day Sixteen: Affective Dysregulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Affective Dysregulation:** _Inability to regulate expression of moods, feelings and emotions._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN SO LONG WTF

It’s not easy working on absolutely no sleep, but Kyungsoo manages it, somehow. He trips over his own feet and drops medication, distracted and tired but still semi-functional; in his sleep-deprived state he manages to miss the looks of worry and pity on the faces of his fellow nurses. 

“You look like death.” Baekhyun is above shooting offhand glances in his direction. He doesn’t sugarcoat his words, instead hiding his concern behind blunt remarks and offhanded insults. “What time did you go to bed?” 

“I didn’t.” Kyungsoo says with a well timed yawn. Baekhyun replies nonverbally, eyebrows drawing together in concern. 

“You went looking for him, didn’t you?” He asks, although he already knows the answer. Baekhyun won’t admit to it, but he also searched the streets for Jongin the previous night, and he’s not the only one. Jongdae, too, wears deep purple bags below his eyes, constantly checking the front door as it opens, as if he expects Jongin to walk through like nothing has happened. 

“I did.” Kyungsoo sees no point in lying. He’s too tired to come up with an excuse, too consumed by worry to attempt to cover the truth. “I’m so scared, Baek.” 

“The police are out there looking for him.” Baekhyun says, pulling Kyungsoo into a hug, trying to soothe the unease with his words, his comforting presence. “And they’ve got a missing person’s report out. He’ll turn up soon.” 

“Will he?” Kyungsoo is holding himself together quite well, all things considering. He doesn’t cry, and apart from minor slip ups here and there, continues to work with his usual diligence. 

“Of course they will.” Baekhyun whispers. He draws his friend in tighter, playing with his hair. It’s not so much for Kyungsoo’s benefit, but his own. He’s worried, so unbelievably scared; he needs the comfort as much as Kyungsoo does. 

A missing person’s report is always frightening; the constant fear of death hanging over the heads of friends, family members, the public. Jongin’s disappearance calls for concern due to his previous history of self harm and attempts on his life. The police have been scouring every well known ‘suicide spot’ in the city, but to no avail. They’ll start searching for a body soon, or so they told Baekhyun. He doesn’t have the heart to relay the information to the rest of the staff, to Kyungsoo. 

They’ll find him sooner or later, Baekhyun has faith. But there’s the very real possibility of Jongin returning in a body bag, so he does not trust to hope.

\------

_Hi, this is Jongin. Leave a message._

“Goddamn it, Jongin.” Taemin yells into the receiver, he runs a hand through messy hair, exhaling as he tries to calm himself. “Pick up your fucking phone.”

He pauses, breathing laboured, he’s trying not to cry. “Jongin, where are you?” He pleads, desperately wishing for a reply instead of static silence. “I-- I’m sorry. Jongin I’m so sorry. Where are you?” 

Taemin’s back hits the wall as he slides to the ground, clutching at his phone with shaking hands. He’s still not crying, because tears have no use here, there’s nothing that they can fix. He needs to be strong. “We’re so worried about you. Please, just come home.” 

He breaks. 

“You don’t even have to go back to hospital, you can just come home.” His voice is muffled with sobs, tears dripping from his cheeks onto the screen of his phone, “Or just, send me a message? Anything, even if it’s just _I hate you_ I won’t ca--”

A loud beep interrupts him, the voicemail recording ends. 

He clutches at his chest with desperation; the pain, the tightness-- it’s agony. He can’t breathe under the strain of his overwhelming emotions, the grief consumes him.

_Hi, this is Jongin. Leave a message._

Taemin shatters. 

The recording picks up no other sound than weeping. 

\------

“Where is he?” Luhan charges into the courtyard, eyes wide and frantic. He appears, for lack of a better word, _crazed._

“Calm down, Batman.” Chanyeol laughs at his own joke. Yixing elbows him in the side. If carefree Luhan is this upset, there’s something very wrong. They frown in concern. “Who are you looking for?”

“Jongin.” Luhan rasps, “Where’s Jongin?” 

“He’s probably asleep.” Yixing tries to soothe him, but their words lack conviction, sounding instead like a question. 

“I checked. He’s not in his room.” Luhan says, babbling almost incoherently, “Sehun said he was probably out here.” 

“I haven’t seen him.” Kris replies gently. “Maybe he’s in--”

“I’ve searched the entire hospital.” Luhan cuts him off, wringing his hands nervously. “He’s not here.” 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Chanyeol says, shrugging. He exhales a breath of smoke with the most nonchalant air. 

“He's _missing_ ,” Luhan says settling into the bench adjacent, resting his head in his hands. Wordlessly, Yixing proceeds to roll, then light a cigarette for Luhan. Medication is in no short supply at the hospital, but there’s something so calming about the regular inhale and exhale of a smoke. Yixing knows this, it’s why they picked up the habit in the first place, “When people like us go missing, we’re not often found.”

“Or we’re found, but only after it’s too late,” Yixing adds. It’s not for Luhan’s benefit that they supply the information, but more for Kris and Chanyeol. A missing patient is serious, and neither of them seem half as concerned as they should be. Yixing, contrary to popular belief, spends a decent amount of time with Jongin. The two have formed a bond, of sorts, a friendship where they mostly sit in silence; reading, smoking, doing whatever takes their fancy. Sometimes they talk. It’s usually quite mundane; topics revolving Yixing’s studies, Jongin’s old job at a coffee shop chain. It’s just, recently, Jongin’s been talking about _getting out of here_ , in a way that causes concern. 

Yixing is filled with dread, almost mindless in their worry. 

“I know this is a mental facility,” Jongdae makes his customary appearance at the courtyard door, his once vibrant smile now dull and forced. It does nothing to ease Yixing’s troubled mind, “But you’re all looking, well, _sadder_ than usual.”

“Where’s Jongin?” Luhan is the only person within the group with enough nerve to ask. Patient confidentiality is a big thing, and the nurses will very rarely break it. In the off chance that staff speak about patients, to patients, it’s quite often vague and filled with sentences using pronouns where names should be. 

“We don’t know,” With three words, quiet, whispered, Jongdae confirms the nightmare, “He didn’t come back, and we have no idea where he’s gone.”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol hisses. Yixing notices that their fellow patient has dropped a cigarette onto his leg, still smouldering at the end. It burns through the fabric of his pants, the heat melting synthetic material upon impact. It would hurt, and Yixing knows from experience that melted clothing sticking to burnt skin is far from painless. But Chanyeol seems unconcerned, too focused on the shock of Jongin’s disappearance to notice his own pain.

“I knew it,” Luhan stands abruptly, immediately moving to pace around the courtyard. It’s his _thing_ , a nervous tic. Something to burn the energy from a rapid onset of emotion. Luhan is either minutes away from a panic attack, or regaining his manic momentum, “He’s not answering his phone, the nurses are quiet and Kyungsoo looks like a corpse. _I knew it_.”

“You’re his friends,” Jongdae continues. He goes through the motions, ticking off each name on his clipboard. They’re keeping a closer eye on the patients, what with Jongin’s disappearance, “There’s no point in lying to you. Myself, and the other nurses, we knew you’d figure it out eventually.” 

“I’d like to apply for leave,” Kris speaks up suddenly, having remained quiet for quite some time, “I want to look for him.” 

“Me too,” Luhan agrees, pausing his erratic pacing for a moment, locking eyes with Jongdae. He exhales smoke in the nurses direction, eyes hard and expression stony, serious, “I need to find him.” 

“Why?” Chanyeol asks, his momentary care for Jongin’s wellbeing receding. He rubs at the burnt patch on his leg with a pained grimace, “Run out of fuck buddies, have you?” 

“Not the time, Chanyeol,” Yixing abandons their customary banter, refrains from calling Chanyeol _Daddy_ , or using pet names as they normally would. Something’s going on with Chanyeol; he’s sick, getting sicker. He’s taking his symptoms and frustrations out on those around him. Yixing, for one, is absolutely sick of it, “Jongin could be _dead_.” 

“We all die sometime,” Chanyeol doesn’t bother extinguishing his cigarette. He’s smoked the tobacco down to the filter, the final inhale he takes is filled with more burning plastic than nicotine. It would taste horrible, the final dregs of the smouldering end singeing his fingers, “Maybe Jongin just died sooner than the rest of us.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Surprisingly, it’s not Luhan that speaks, but Kris. He hasn’t been as angry recently, understanding company and a cocktail of medication quelling his misdirected rage. Yixing is terrified, the type of hate within Kris’ eyes is so reminiscent of his first days within Theta, and they feel he may be regressing, “You haven’t seen people die, you insensitive piece of shit. No one, and I mean _no one_ should be dead at such a young age.” 

“I find dead people all the time,” Chanyeol hisses, “I find suicidal fuckers before the nurses do.”

“Chanyeol, calm down,” Jongdae tries to intervene but it’s to no avail. 

“I’ve seen plenty of dead people,” Chanyeol ignores Jongdae, sneering at Kris as he makes to exit the courtyard, “But none of them were people I’ve killed.” 

It's a low blow, the worst kind of personal attack. Chanyeol should know better than to target someone's insecurities, to make light of someone's illness in such a way. 

This isn't the Chanyeol Yixing knows. The kindhearted, warm soul of Theta is gone; a man consumed by his own mind stands in his place. Suddenly, the hospital feels colder, far less inviting. The illusion fades, and Yixing is aware, now more so than ever, that their temporary home is sterile, clinical. The gardens seem fake, the smell of disinfectant wafts through the door as Chanyeol leaves. Hospital no longer feels safe.

Yixing worries. Not only for Jongin, but for Chanyeol as well.

\-------

It's risky, what Sehun and Tao are doing. After Luhan’s escapades with half the hospital, the staff are constantly vigilant, looking for signs of potential relationships, making sure they remain strictly platonic until outside hospital walls and jurisdiction. 

But Tao is hard to resist, Sehun finds, prone to wandering hands and sporadic moments where he traces along the column of Sehun’s neck with his lips and tongue.

Sehun is weak, because he caves each and every single time, sliding a hand up Tao’s shirt in retaliation, playing with his nipples and swallowing his moans. 

Currently, Sehun is pinned to his bed with an eager Tao on top of him, shirtless and trying desperately to keep quiet as Tao sucks on his tongue and palms his bulge through his pyjama pants. 

The curtain is drawn, obviously, but they’ve got matching hickeys, swollen lips and lust blown eyes to match. If someone were to walk in, they'd know _exactly_ what they've been doing. 

“I knew it,” Sehun is thankful that it's Luhan, and not a member of staff that walks in on them. Sehun is also surprised that he's not gloating, sitting on the end of Sehun’s bed and asking for details, or maybe an invitation to join in later, “I knew it, but is now _really_ the time?” 

“Luhan implying that there’s an inappropriate time for blowjobs,” Tao snickers. His hand remains on Sehun’s crotch, stilled, but with no intention of moving, “Never thought I'd see the day.” 

“Blowjob?” Sehun enquires. So far, they've just been making out, a little groping over the clothes. Nothing they haven't done before. 

“I was getting to that part,” Tao licks his lips, gripping Sehun’s cock just a fraction tighter. Sehun whines out loud, “Before we were so rudely interrupted.” 

“Normally, I'd ask to watch,” Luhan says, “Or ask to join in, but it’s _really_ not the time.”

“What’s wrong,” Sehun sits up. Tao understands that the moment has been ruined, and slides from his position, deciding to take his place next to Sehun on the bed. Luhan wrings his hands together anxiously, in Sehun’s opinion, he looks like he’s in the middle of yet another relapse. But Luhan, no matter his mental state, wouldn’t interrupt them if something wasn’t very, very wrong. 

Sehun frowns.

“You haven’t noticed?” Luhan’s voice raises in pitch, panicked and uneasy. Sehun’s hand slowly inches towards the call button above his bedside table. Luhan isn’t in a good frame of mind, and he may need some extra help, attention or medication from the nurses in order to calm down, “How the _fuck_ have you not noticed?” 

“Luhan, just tell us,” Tao begins, “You’re not making any sense.”

“You’ve been too busy sucking cock to notice,” Luhan ignores Tao’s attempts to calm him down, beginning to pace around the room frantically. He throws himself face first onto Jongin’s empty bed, screaming into his pillows, muffling the noise through layers of cotton and stuffing. 

“That’s really fucking rich, coming from you,” Sehun scoffs, “Grow up, and tell us what’s wrong.” 

“When was the last time you saw Jongin, huh?” Luhan says, he grips at Jongin’s pillow, burying his face into the pillowcase. It takes Sehun a moment to realise that he’s _crying_. 

“Yesterday,” Sehun says, quite confused, “I don’t know what that’s got to do with--”

“Oh my God,” Tao figures it out first, “Jongin, _no_.”

“And the penny drops,” Luhan laughs, dry and sarcastic, almost in disbelief. He laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

“He’s not--- You know?” Sehun asks, daring to hope. He’s grown fond of Jongin, formed attachments. It’s something he rarely does, especially in hospital. It’s because of situations like this; he likes Jongin, they’ve quickly become close friends. Sehun has no idea what he’d do if Jongin died. 

“Missing,” Luhan says. He seems to have calmed down, repressed some of the anger. His emotions change constantly as a standard, but when faced with emotional turmoil, it seems his mood cycles through the full spectrum almost constantly, “But they’re looking for a body.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Sehun sighs, he pushes the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to will away tears and hide the ones he couldn’t quite hold back. But Tao draws him into a hug and Sehun _breaks_ ; he’s never cried for another person in his life, never shed a tear in front of someone else. He clings to Tao, cries into his shirt, overwhelmed by grief and anger and sorrow.

“I know you two are dating,” Luhan sounds small, broken, “But can I join in with the cuddling?” 

“Of course,” Tao replies, shifting on the bed and drawing Luhan into his chest. He kisses the top of Luhan’s head, then Sehun’s. He’s trying to be strong, but Sehun can feel the tears dripping into his hair. 

They stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s embrace and hoping for the best.

\------

Chanyeol is well aware he’s making an awful amount of noise. 

Chanyeol is well aware that the nurses aren’t going to be happy with him, not with the amount of damage he’s done to his room. The curtains surrounding his bed lie in tatters on the floor, he’s pulled stuffing from the pillows and he’s almost certain he’s broken the mechanisms within his hospital bed, what with all the jumping. 

He’s eying the window. He feels trapped. The hospital is lax, and if he wanted to walk out the front door and into freedom, he could. But there’s something about the window in his room that makes him inexplicably angry, so he gathers the remains of the curtains and wraps them around his fist. 

There’s a buzz in his head; voices that scream and babble, scrambling over each other to be heard. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Chanyeol mutters, he looks into the reflective surface of the window, the lips on his reflection continue to move, even though he’s stopped talking. 

Or has he? Chanyeol doesn’t know, he can’t tell his voice apart from the commotion in his head. He’s trapped, afraid. He needs to get out. 

His thoughts swim, his vision blurs, his reflection distorts in the window, flesh of his face rotting and falling away leaving nothing but bones. 

Chanyeol screams. 

The glass is too thick, it doesn’t crack or break under the force of his punch. A jolt of pain shoots down his arm, agony as the bones in his fist shatter under his skin. 

He sinks to the floor, clutching his broken hand, blood seeping through the curtain’s remains and down his wrist. 

Chanyeol can feel himself speaking, crying, screaming. He’s making noise but he can’t hear it, can only register the vibration of his vocal chords, the rawness of his throat. 

He falls silent. 

The voices remain loud and unrelenting.

\------

Baekhyun watches the ambulance doors close with a frown. 

Chanyeol went willingly, and for that he’s thankful. Finding a patient in a destroyed room, covered in blood and with a broken hand isn’t really Baekhyun’s idea of a quiet day at work. But then again, the commotion caused by Chanyeol has taken everyone’s minds off Jongin, at least for a little while. 

Situations like this are in the job description, however; Baekhyun knew _exactly_ what he was signing up for when he first took the job, he knew the kind of things he’d be experiencing. 

That still doesn’t make things any easier, not when his patients resort to hurting themselves, running away. Baekhyun feels like a failure; he’s supposed to be there to _help_ , but there are still people who would rather resort to drastic measures than talk to him. It hurts, especially because he’s so close to Chanyeol, Jongin too. Hell, if they were to meet under different circumstances, Baekhyun is sure that they’d be _friends_. 

“You okay?” Kyungsoo rests his hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder. Together, they watch as the ambulance takes Chanyeol to the nearby hospital in order to fix his wounds. 

“I’m---” Baekhyun tries to affirm that he’s _fine_ , that everything is okay. But the words just won’t come out, he can’t deny that the events of the past few days have taken a massive toll on him, emotional fatigue bleeding into the rest of his body. He’s tired, “I’ve been better.”

“We’re told not to, but we always take the patient’s problems on as our own,” Kyungsoo says. He looks as tired as Baekhyun feels, “I think that’s what it means to be a psychiatric nurse.” 

“It’s true,” Baekhyun doesn’t deny it. He’s cried with his patients before, attended their funerals. Work follows him home, and he goes to bed thinking about his patients, hoping that their sleep is uninterrupted by the nightmares that plague so many of them. 

“I miss him already,” Kyungsoo whispers after a moment. Baekhyun doesn’t know if he’s talking about Jongin, Chanyeol, or both. Either way he shares Kyungsoo’s sentiments. It’s testament to their rapport within the hospital; after Jongin’s disappearance, everyone has become so morose-- even those who barely know him. Chanyeol’s episode has destroyed morale even further, with so many patients requesting PRN so that they may sleep their worries away. Baekhyun walked into Sehun’s room whilst doing his rounds and found Jongin’s friends asleep in his room. The only one still awake was Kris, who raised a finger to his lips in the universal symbol for _quiet_ , watching over the sleeping cohort like a silent guardian. 

Baekhyun blinks, and the image of Luhan asleep on Jongin’s bed, desperately clutching his pillow remains burnt into his eyelids. 

“C’mon,” Kyungsoo nudges Baekhyun gently, “We’ve only got an hour left, and there’s still reports left to finish.” 

“Yeah,” Baekhyun allows himself one last forlorn glance, staring down the street where the Ambulance has long since departed. 

He can’t let his emotions take control; Baekhyun still has a job to do, other patients to help. But he can’t help but worry. He just hopes both Jongin and Chanyeol return. And as soon as possible.

\------

“Come cuddle me,” Yixing says. There’s no one else in the courtyard, and Kris has come outside on his own. Yixing stretches their arms wide, waiting for Kris to fall into their embrace, allowing no room for Kris to misinterpret their words or intentions. 

Sliding into the seat next to them, Kris wraps his arms around Yixing in what he hopes is a comforting hold. The past few days have been emotionally draining on everyone, and even Kris, who so often finds himself shying away from human contact, wants to hug and touch, find comfort in the arms of those he's grown close to. 

Yixing may seem fragile, but they're pure muscle, lithe and strong. Kris assumed they'd be soft, small pockets of fat to cushion from bone, but there's nothing. It's not as uncomfortable as he once assumed. 

Kris’ life has turned upside down since arriving at Theta, his worldviews challenged, although in the best of ways. He’s learning that there is no weakness in emotion, and it’s a true display of strength to admit there’s something wrong. His old _suck it up_ metality fades with each day; he’s no longer ashamed of his condition, and he’s working on erasing his fear of it. 

Partially, he thanks Yixing. Though over emotional and clingy, Yixing is probably the strongest person that Kris has ever met, and he’s constantly inspired by their ability to persevere. Their illness doesn’t define them, their symptoms aren’t in permanent control. Yixing isn’t _weak_ , and they’re so much more than a diagnosis. Kris has learnt so much. 

“I like hugging you,” Yixing sighs, Kris hums in reply, raising a hand to play with their hair. It’s soft, freshly washed. The dark colour Tao applied suits them so well, “I’m not scared of you anymore.” 

“I’m glad,” Kris replies. And he is, he’s overjoyed by Yixing’s admission, glad that the fear and uneasiness has faded into something like friendship. 

“I hope they’re okay,” Yixing continues, “I don’t know what I’d do if Jongin and Chanyeol weren’t here.” 

Kris tightens his hold, just slightly. 

“I’m here if you need me,” Kris replies in the most sincere tone he can muster, “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah,” Yixing sighs, and Kris swears he can feel the press of lips against his neck, “Yeah, I know.”

\------

_\--- 180cm tall, currently sporting pink hair. If you see Jongin, please call the Missing Person’s Hotline on---_

Jongin hastily changes the channel. He’s got the volume down low enough that Moonkyu won’t hear it, but he’s still on edge. He’s thankful that his old friend has taken him in without too much questioning, taking Jongin’s offered reasoning of a fight with Taemin as enough reason for him to stay. 

He should leave soon, but he doesn’t really know where he’s going to go. Of course, hospital is an option, but he fears the repercussions. Honestly, he wasn’t planning on being away for so long, but being left with his thoughts was a dangerous thing, and one thing lead to another and suddenly Jongin’s at Moonkyu’s apartment asking to stay on his couch. 

Jongin’s phone is off, Taemin and the hospital calling him constantly have started to get on his nerves. He’s willing to bet that his parents have been notified by this point, and that the other patients have figured it out. He’ll turn on his phone and the device will surely freeze, unable to handle the onslaught of missed called and concerned messages. 

He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. 

“Yeah, he’s here, why?” Jongin can hear Moonkyu from the kitchen, and he knows he’s been discovered. Quietly, before Moonkyu can notice, he runs. 

He’s too far gone by this point. 

Jongin pulls his hood up over his hair as he reaches the street, walking aimlessly towards an undecided destination. 

It's raining, and Jongin shivers as he's hit by the raindrops, soaking him through in seconds. 

He doesn’t know where he’s going. 

He doesn't want to be found.

\------

Kyungsoo is on the verge of giving up hope. He’s used two tanks of petrol in his search, driving aimlessly around the city, trying to catch sight of Jongin’s hair with every turn. 

“The park,” Kyungsoo breathes, mentally berating himself for not thinking of it sooner. According to Taemin, Jongin was at the apartment of one of his old university buddies. It’s close enough to Kyungsoo’s old apartment, and they spent many hours there during their fleeting relationship, and Kyungsoo can only hope that he's retained enough sentimental attachment to visit. 

Those who are lost and alone will always crave familiarity; Jongin’s been spotted in the area, and the park is most likely the most familiar thing within walking distance. 

The rain increases in intensity, so much so that Kyungsoo can barely see the road ahead of him. Usually, he'd pull over and wait for the worst to pass but he's desperate; he drives as fast as he can without being a danger. 

He only hopes that Jongin has managed to find shelter.

\------

As predicted, Jongin’s phone froze the second it loaded; hundreds of messages being delivered simultaneously wreaking havoc with the operating system. He waits patiently for the vibrations to stop, before selecting the YouTube app and settling in to watch some mindless videos as he waits out the rain. 

The park’s gazebo offers enough shelter, though the occasional gust of wind shifts the raindrops off course, pelting into Jongin’s back and soaking him through. 

His phone doesn't have enough battery, but it'll last long enough to keep him occupied until sleep inevitably takes him. Jongin’s hands shake, withdrawals from his medication setting in. He feels sick and weak. He makes the executive decision to return to the hospital once the rain stops.

Sure, he could call them, get one of the nurses or an ambulance to come and pick him up. But he wants a little more time on his own, a little more freedom before he's subjected to the suffocating walls and lingering scent of disinfectant. 

“I could punch you,” Someone says from behind him. Jongin pauses the video but doesn't turn around. He knows that voice, he knows exactly who has found him, “But I’m just glad you're okay.” 

Kyungsoo knows him better than anyone, and it pains Jongin to admit it. He's smart, too, figuring out that Jongin would be in this exact location in order to shelter himself from the weather. 

“I'm fine,” Jongin sighs. He still refuses to look at Kyungsoo, “Just needed some alone time, is all.”

“We thought you were _dead_ ,” Kyungsoo places his hand on Jongin’s shoulder, but it's shrugged off almost immediately. 

“I considered it,” Jongin says. After his fight with Taemin, Jongin had stood on a bridge for hours, contemplating on whether or not he should jump. He couldn't bring himself to go through with it, and had ended up at Moonkyu’s house instead, “But I decided not to.” 

“Thank God,” Kyungsoo says, and the relief is evident in his voice. Jongin knows that Kyungsoo would miss him if he were to die, and he hates the small part of him that wants to stay alive purely for Kyungsoo’s benefit. 

“What happened?” Kyungsoo sits on the bench next to him, carefully so that they don’t touch. Jongin is thankful for the small gesture; he’s not feeling up for human contact, especially if it’s being offered by his best friend. 

“Taemin and I had a fight,” Jongin shrugs, “Things were said and I ran away.” 

“What did he say, Jongin?” Kyungsoo has his Nurse Voice on, and Jongin is painfully reminded that he’s just part of Kyungsoo’s job, and that all concern and obligation towards Jongin’s well being is just an extension of his position as a nurse.

“That I was pathetic for relying on you,” Jongin replies, “That it was just a repeat of our past relationship, only under different circumstances.”

“He’s wrong,” Kyungsoo places what he assumes to be a comforting hand on Jongin’s thigh, and he’s far too tired to move away from the touch. He’s uncomfortable, but exhaustion has settled deep into his bones, so he allows the gesture. 

“I know,” Jongin says quietly, “I can’t rely on you at all.”

Kyungsoo stiffens. 

“Come with me,” His tone is no longer light, caring. He sounds almost angry as he manhandles Jongin from his chair and back out into the rain, “We’re going back to hospital.” 

“You can’t _make_ me,” Kyungsoo is strong but Jongin is bigger, digging his heels into the wet grass and refusing to move an inch further, “I don’t want to go back.”

“You come back with me or you go back in a police car,” Kyungsoo hisses, he grasps at the front of Jongin’s hoodie, faces close together. He’s panting under the exertion of trying to move an unwilling Jongin, rain cascading down his face. He looks livid, fed up. He looks almost unbearably attractive.

Jongin’s not in his right mind, at least that’s what he tells himself as he grabs Kyungsoo by the hips and pulls him that little bit closer. 

They haven’t kissed in years, but the way their lips meet feels almost natural, despite the anger and frustration that fuels it. Jongin slides his hands up the back of Kyungsoo’s shirt, scratching at the skin as he coaxes Kyungsoo into a deeper kiss. 

He bites at Kyungsoo’s lip and licks into his mouth, the rain sinking even deeper into their clothes and hair, pooling as their lips join and falling away as they separate. 

“Now will you come back with me?” Kyungsoo says, panting now for a different reason. Jongin wants to kiss him again. 

“I hate you,” Jongin says, ignoring his question. He says he hates Kyungsoo, but he makes no effort to create distance between them, hands still roaming over the expanse of Kyungsoo’s back. 

“I know you do,” Kyungsoo replies, and Jongin is being kissed again.

He’ll hate himself for it later, when he’s alone and thinking about his actions. When he’s sick from standing in the rain with Kyungsoo and indulging in his emotions. 

But for now Jongin enjoys the way his lips slide against Kyungsoo’s, the press of his body, the hands in his hair. 

After all, it’s their last kiss. 

It won’t happen again.


	18. Day Seventeen: Idealization/Devaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Idealization**   
>  _Great admiration for a loved one_   
>  **Devaluation**   
>  _An intense anger or dislike towards a loved one_
> 
>  The combination of Idealization and Devaluation is called _Splitting_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS

**Today's TWs:** Emotional manipulation, hinted gaslighting.

“You're doing well,” Minseok remarks, almost in disbelief, “you smiled at a nurse this morning, and he nearly had a heart attack.” 

Sehun grins again, mirroring his expression from earlier in the day. He remembers the shell-shocked expression on Jongdae’s face and smiles a little wider; it was funny, almost, the kind of reaction a simple quirking of lips had caused.

“Smiling _again_?” Minseok says in shock, “laughing? Who are you and what have you done with Sehun?” 

“Take me to your leader,” Sehun imitates Chanyeol’s impression of his alien abductors. It’s a poor imitation, but the look on Minseok’s face as he does it is so, _so_ worth it, “we come in peace.”

“You’re smiling and joking,” Minseok shakes his head, laughing softly, “something good must have happened to you.” 

He’s not wrong. Sehun woke up to find Jongin asleep in the bed adjacent. For a while there, Sehun was wondering if he’d ever see him again. They’ve become close; Sehun would consider Jongin a friend. It’s not a title he gives out half-heartedly, but Jongin has earnt his place on Sehun’s small list of friends. 

“You can tell me,” Minseok starts awkwardly, “If anything has, you know, _happened_.”

Sehun promptly chokes. 

“Like what?” He struggles to breathe, having inhaled his own saliva. If he didn’t know any better, Sehun assume that Minseok was asking about his _sex life_ , something they’ve discussed once and immediately decided never to discuss again. 

“I know you and your friends are a little more on the promiscuous side,” Minseok says awkwardly. Sehun feels like he’s having The Talk with his father all over again, “and if it’s _those kinds_ of activities bringing your mood up, I do need to know.”

“I’m not getting laid.” Sehun says. It’s an unfortunate truth. He and Tao haven’t managed anything other than a vaguely raunchy make-out session, what with all the disruptions. 

Jongin cannot be considered a _disruption_ and Sehun refuses to blame his friend’s disappearance for his own lack of a sex life. The nurses, on the other hand, are complete distractions. They’re suspicious, not only of Tao and Sehun but of the entire group. Even Kris and Yixing have nurses following them around, and they don’t even _flirt_. Chanyeol has a _girlfriend_ and he has his own personal entourage of nurses. Although the nurses’ constant presence at Chanyeol’s side is more likely because of his breakdown rather than his suspected activities. 

“You don’t have to tell me who,” Minseok pushes, “but if this is something that makes you feel better, then it’s something we can discuss.” 

“I like someone,” Sehun gives in. Minseok has been his psychologist for as long as he can remember. Sehun was friends with Minseok’s son in high school. Kim Minseok is, for all intents and purposes, more of a family member than a doctor. They probably cross lines of doctor/patient relationships, but the staff of Theta seem to turn a blind eye to such things, “We’re not sleeping together, but I like him.” 

“I can probably guess who,” Minseok knows Sehun’s brain as a psychiatric professional and he knows it as a family friend. He’s probably been watching the budding relationship with Tao from his office window, smiling to himself, “but don’t worry, I won’t say anything.” 

“Unless we break the rules.” Sehun finishes for him. He’s heard the line before. Sehun’s broken a lot of rules, but this is the first one he’s broken while in hospital. Theta is a place to get _better_ and there’s no point in indulging in bad habits while he’s on the inside. 

“Of course.” Minseok waves his hand dismissively, “But of course, we both know you won’t be breaking any of them while in here, don’t we?” 

“What are you trying to say?” Sehun asks. Minseok’s smile either means good things or that he’s about to reminisce about high school aged Sehun. It could go both ways. 

“Your good mood and good behaviour have you up for overnight leave,” Minseok starts, “And if my assumptions are correct, then so is your _friend_.” 

“Tao’s up for overnight?” Sehun blurts out. He’s too excited to notice the slip-up. Minseok doesn’t comment, only muttering something to the effect of _I knew it_ before shaking his head with a smile. 

“And since I’m the one granting it, I’ll make sure you’re both up on the same day.” He finishes, looking far too proud of himself. Most overnights happen from Saturday to Sunday as to ease the burden on the already small number of weekend staff. It’s not _that_ hard to coordinate. 

“What’s the catch?” Minseok always has rules. Sehun wants to know them _now_ and not in two days time when he leaves. 

“No drinking, no continuing where you left off when back at hospital.” Minseok counts his conditions on the tips of his fingers, “Which, I’m sure you’ll agree, are fair terms.” 

“Deal.” Sehun extends his hand for a handshake. Minseok obliges him with a laugh. 

“I haven’t seen you this happy for _years_ ,” his comment is offhanded, but it strikes Sehun to the core, “I’m so happy. For the both of you.” 

_Happiness, huh?_ Sehun muses as he walks towards the courtyard. It’s time for his morning smoke. _So that’s what it is._

The concept of being happy has been lost on him for so long. He’s completely forgotten what it feels like. 

\------

Kyungsoo doesn’t know how he got himself into this situation. He’ll lose his job, ruin his credibility _and_ his career if he was ever discovered. It’s not like he’ll go around kissing just any patient, Jongin is special, so special. But who in their right mind would believe him? He’s looking after a former partner in the ward, proceeded to kiss said former partner not once, but twice. 

Yes, twice. 

Kyungsoo doesn’t know how he got himself into this situation, but it’s not like he’s complaining. Internally freaking out, yes. Complaining, no. Kissing Jongin is something he’s missed so terribly, and he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. No matter how morally grey the situation may be. 

“Thank you,” Jongin sighs. Kyungsoo walked into Jongin’s room with medication and found himself pinned to the bed. He could have pushed Jongin off but didn't, instead he _kissed back_ , “I needed that.” 

“What, a morning makeout session?” Kyungsoo’s hair is without a doubt messy. Jongin’s is worse, but at least his hair is _always_ messy, unlike Kyungsoo’s. 

“Affection,” Jongin replies, pausing briefly as he kisses down Kyungsoo’s neck, “I kinda just needed a hug.” 

“This--” Kyungsoo starts, hissing in pain and scrambling to push Jongin off him. There’s a throbbing in his neck where Jongin’s teeth marked the skin. He’ll have a mark there, one that will be _very_ difficult to explain, “Jongin what the _fuck_.” 

“You used to like them,” Jongin rolls off him with a pout, “I thought nothing had changed.” 

“I’m your _nurse_.” Kyungsoo hisses.

“A sexy nurse.” Kyungsoo has to swat at Jongin’s wandering hands. It’s already inappropriate, but to be found with Jongin’s hands down his pants is far worse than kissing him. 

“Not in the hospital,” Kyungsoo pleads, “Jongin, I can’t lose my job like this.” 

“You wouldn’t lose your job for me?” Jongin sits up suddenly, removing his hands and putting distance between them, “I thought I meant something to you.”

“You do, of course you do, Jongin.” Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he’s reasoning with him. It’s clear he’s being emotionally manipulated, but he cares far too much. He’s forgotten his training, all the hints and tips for getting out of a situation like this without damaging his relationship with the patient. Then again, Kyungsoo’s textbooks never mentioned ways to deal with _romantic_ relationships with patients, “I’ll figure something out, okay?” 

“Okay.” Jongin smiles. He seems so different to the person he was yesterday, “let me know when you figure it out.” 

“You’re the first person I’ll tell.” Kyungsoo says, “Now, are you going to take your meds or?” 

“I’ll take them.” Jongin replies, reaching towards the nightstand for the hastily discarded medication and cup of water. 

He’s taking his meds without fuss, kissing Kyungsoo and asking to do it again. Something’s shifted in Jongin and Kyungsoo has serious worries. He has no idea how to broach them, however. It’s not like he can tell Minseok or Junmyeon about what happened without giving himself away. 

There’s more to it, something the doctors haven’t figured out. 

Kyungsoo has his guesses. He can’t voice them but he can internalise them, maybe drop a hint here or there. 

He only hopes Jongin is given a proper diagnosis and _soon_.

\------

“Do you want breakfast?” Kris asks. The lump of bedding and pillows on Yixing’s bed twitches slightly at the area where their head should lie. He’ll take that as a _no_ , then. 

“Do you want tea?” Another twitch, another _no_. 

“Do you want anything at all?” Kris pushes. It’s better him than the nurses, especially when Yixing gets into one of their moods. Actually, it’s better Luhan than both Kris and the nurses. Luhan is far better at handling Yixing; he knows when to force them out of bed and into the cafeteria and knows when to leave them alone. It comes from such close friendship developed over such a long period of time. Kris doesn’t like to think about it. He’s jealous, though he’ll only ever admit it inwardly. 

“For you to go away, maybe?” Their response is muffled but still clearly understood. Kris gets it, he really does. Some days he too wants to stay in bed and not deal with the outside world. Other people’s voices are annoying, grating on his already thin nerves. Kris gets it, he really does. 

Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though. 

\------

“He lives!” Luhan roars, throwing his half-smoked cigarette into a nearby bush. Jongin all but blushes at the attention. He’s on near constant surveillance with Kyungsoo or one of the other nurses following him around like a shadow. It’s usually Kyungsoo, though, which is cute. It’s like he thinks he actually _means_ something to Jongin. Adorable, really. 

“Yes, I live.” Jongin extends his arms for a hug. Luhan, despite being shorter and far more slight, attempts to pick Jongin up and spin him around. It doesn’t go all too well, with the two of them nearly stumbling into a bush halfway through the first spin. 

“If you disappear on me again, I _will_ suffocate you in your sleep,” Luhan threatens, but he also looks like he’s about to cry in relief. It’s cute, so cute. Jongin loves the attention. 

“There’s a story there.” Tao begins. His arm is around Sehun’s shoulder as they sit on the bench. Casual enough not to arouse suspicion, but Jongin knows better. He shouldn’t be jealous, but he is. Jongin’s a _great_ person, why doesn’t he have someone? Well, he has Kyungsoo, of course, but why can’t he have anyone else? 

“There is,” Luhan is still holding onto Jongin, tightly, like he doesn’t want to let go, “but now is not the time.” 

“When you came back to hospital,” Jongin starts, shifting the focus back to him, “Yixing greeted you rather differently.” 

He can hear Kyungsoo’s pained noise in the background. _Good_.

“Oh?” Luhan knows where this is going. Everyone knows where this is going if the wolf whistles are anything to go by. Even Kris, sitting silently on the bench manages to contribute with a small yell of approval.

Jongin knows he’s attractive. He knows how to turn on the charm, such as it is. He might have issues with his self-esteem but he still has little moments like these, ones where he _knows_ that he’s the most attractive person they’ll ever see in their life. 

Luhan is weak. Kyungsoo is weak. He’s not about to break up Tao and Sehun, but he _knows_ that any one of them could fall for him if given the right kind of attention. The same thing applies for the rest of the group. He could have them all if he wanted. And he kinda does. 

Jongin kisses Luhan, hands on his ass with Luhan’s hands in his hair, adding to the mess already created by Kyungsoo. 

The cheers and wolf whistles reach their peak as Luhan pushes his tongue into Jongin’s mouth. He doesn’t like it, he _loves_ it. 

“That’s enough!” Kyungsoo looks and sounds mad. It’s hot. Jongin hates himself for finding Kyungsoo attractive, but he hates himself anyway, so it’s not that big of a deal. Luhan pulls himself from Jongin’s embrace with a pout. 

“You’re ruining my fun, ‘Soo.” He says, but goes back to his seat obediently. 

“Feeling left out?” Jongin taunts. Something rises inside of him, it’s a little like anger, a little like annoyance but with more intensity than both of them combined. He wants to _ruin_ Kyungsoo, “C’mere.” 

“Jongin, what--” His reply is cut short as Jongin advances on him. He winds his arms around Kyungsoo’s neck, pushes their bodies together. It’s okay, on occasion, for nurses to hug their patients in cases of severe emotional distress. But Kyungsoo has been shocked into autopilot, and the way his hands rest on Jongin’s waist are anything but platonic. 

“You want a kiss?” Jongin breathes. Kyungsoo’s hands tighten at his hips. _Good_ , “All you have to do is ask.” 

They’re in the open where anyone can see, a nurse, the patients, even one of the doctors if they were to look out the window. Kyungsoo doesn’t want anyone to know about them? Too bad. Now _everyone_ does. 

“Dude,” Sehun breathes, shocked quiet. 

“Jongin,” it’s like Sehun’s voice has pulled him out of his internal struggle. He pushes Jongin away, gently and not aggressively. Something straight out of a textbook. Jongin sees red. He’s not a textbook case, he’s anything but. He means more to Kyungsoo than an example written on a page, “Jongin that was very inappropriate.” 

“Whatever,” Jongin spits, turning on his heel and walking towards the door. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to smoke with these people. He’ll just go to the front courtyard, instead. Kyungsoo calls out to him, but Jongin is so mad that he ignores it. 

The window pane in the door often shakes as it slams. 

This time it shatters.

\------

“What the fuck was that?” Baekhyun looks like he’s about to hit something. Probably Kyungsoo. 

“I have no idea.” He responds honestly. Jongin’s behaviour is confusing everyone, Kyungsoo included. Baekhyun managed to catch the second half of the whole ordeal in the courtyard and is subsequently grilling Kyungsoo for details. 

“You _felt up_ a patient,” Baekhyun refrains from hitting him, but tries to pull out his own hair instead. In any other situation, Kyungsoo would point out that it’ll make him go bald if he keeps up with the habit. The comment feels in bad taste, so he holds his tongue, “What the fuck were you thinking?” 

“There’s something wrong with Jongin.” Kyungsoo tries to push the conversation in a more productive direction. Baekhyun can broach the subject with Minseok and Junmyeon on his behalf, can talk about Jongin’s condition without it sounding like a conflict of interest. 

“You think?” Baekhyun gestures wildly at the hospital walls. Kyungsoo gets it, he really does. No one is in Theta because they’re well. He should have worded it a little differently. 

“Look,” Kyungsoo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You could talk about this with Junmyeon, get me fired or get Jongin sent off to _Our Ladies_.” 

“Or?” Baekhyun prompts. He looks a little less agitated now that Kyungsoo has something to talk about. 

“Or, you could talk to Junmyeon about Jongin’s new symptoms.” He finishes, looking at Baekhyun expectantly. 

“You think Jongin’s been misdiagnosed.” Baekhyun deadpans, “Kyungsoo, honestly--” 

“Think about it,” Kyungsoo urges, “He’s got depression, we all know that. But there are other things that don’t quite fit, and you can’t just call it his personality.” 

“I’ll have them look into it,” Baekhyun replies carefully, “And the issue in the courtyard?” 

“We don’t mention it.” Kyungsoo says adamantly, “You’re the only one who saw, right?” 

“I hope so,” Baekhyun’s eyes lock onto the mark Jongin left on Kyungsoo’s neck, “and I hope I’m the only one to notice that brand new hickey you’ve got there.” 

“Baek--” 

“That wasn’t on your neck this morning,” Baekhyun’s voice is low, dangerous, “Whatever you’re doing, be _very_ careful.” 

“You’re not telling me to stop?” Kyungsoo is surprised. Usually, Baekhyun is the first to object to his relationship with Jongin, whatever it may be. Even when they were younger, before hospital, before everything, Baekhyun would often tell Kyungsoo to be careful. He wonders what made him change his mind. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think it’s a toxic relationship and I do not approve in the slightest,” harsh. Kyungsoo flinches, “but you seem hell bent on resurrecting this, so I’m just telling you to be very secretive about it all.” 

“Thanks.” Kyungsoo doesn’t know if he should be thankful or insulted. Perhaps a bit of both. Baekhyun means well, he’s just showing he cares. 

“Don’t let him break your heart,” Baekhyun says quietly. He holds Kyungsoo’s arm, a comfort to both of them, “not again.” 

“I won’t.” Kyungsoo replies solemnly. 

He’s lying. It’s terrible to think, but Kyungsoo will take these few moments of affection, even if it means heartache later. 

It’s awful, but that’s love.

\------

“Spill.” Sehun throws himself onto Jongin’s bed. They do this, sometimes. Lie together and talk. It’s nice to cuddle like this; judgement free and surrounded by platonic affection, “you’re going to tell me anyway, so you may as well tell me now.” 

“I can’t stop kissing Kyungsoo.” Jongin says. It’s not what Sehun was expecting, but it’s not like he missed the giant hickey on the nurse’s neck, either. 

“You sound like you’re in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting,” Sehun snorts, elbowing Jongin in the ribs, “with a little more detail and enthusiasm, if you please.” 

“Well,” Jongin smirks. Sehun suddenly regrets everything, “he makes this _noise_ whenever I suck on his tongue and---” 

“Not that much detail!” Sehun shrieks, “seriously, I don’t want to know about Kyungsoo’s sex noises.” 

“Why not?” Jongin’s still smirking, the asshole. Sehun regrets asking. He tries to pull away from Jongin’s embrace-- he does not deserve platonic cuddle time if he’s going to act like this, “he groans in your ear when he’s fucking you and it’s the hottest thing ever.” 

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sehun bemoans. Jongin tickles him in response.

“You befriended me.” The tickling doesn’t ease up. Sehun can’t breathe. 

“Seriously, though,” Sehun manages enough strength to push Jongin away, making sure his hands keep to himself and _not_ on Sehun’s ribcage, “You hate him, you’re in love with him, you ignore him then you make out with him. What gives?” 

“I dunno,” Jongin shrugs, “I just act how I feel on the day, I guess?” 

“That’s,” Sehun frowns, “Jongin that’s not _normal_.” 

“Yeah,” Jongin sighs, “Depression is a dick to my emotions.” 

“Depression doesn’t do that to me.” Sehun says slowly. He runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair. It’s getting greasy again, he may have to force him into the shower. Again. Or maybe Kyungsoo could offer to join him? Who knows what motivates Jongin anymore. 

“Everyone’s experience is different.” Jongin yawns as he replies. It seems like the emotional outburst earlier has exhausted him. 

Jongin is both correct and incorrect. Of course, everyone experiences symptoms differently. No one person has the exact same mental illness. Sehun has met many people with depression, but not all of them cope with the disorder in the way he does. That’s why mental illness is hard; they’re not just symptoms, but the people behind them as well. 

But Jongin’s mood swings, his shifting opinions on the people around him--- there’s little things, here and there, small pieces of Jongin’s experience with depression that Sehun just can’t relate to. 

He’s worried, without a doubt. But he’s also so very tired. He’ll think about it later.

After he takes a nap, of course.

\------

Junmyeon reads over numerous files, learning about the happenings of the hospital he wasn’t around to witness. He may be the person treating most of the patients, but he’s not involved with their day to day lives. That’s why he needs the files; the nurses keep an eye on everyone for him, tell him who is doing well and who is not. 

He has a few concerns. Yixing and Chanyeol have secluded themselves away, Tao is showing symptoms of mania. Jongin has been breaking doors and kissing boys in the courtyard. It’s funny, to think that so much can happen in such a small period of time. 

“Have you read Jongin’s file?” Minseok walks into Junmyeon’s office, he looks worried. Junmyeon, too, is worried. He skims over Baekhyun’s final notes once more. 

“Just finished it,” he says, “what do you think?” 

“We’ve spoken about it before.” Minseok says quietly, “I mean, it’s hard to diagnose, but if Baekhyun seems to think something is there, then I think it’s something to look into.” 

“Schedule an appointment with him tomorrow,” Junmyeon instructs, “It may take a few sessions, but I’d like you to do a thorough diagnosis, if you please.” 

“Of course.” Minseok replies, taking the case files from Junmyeon’s desk then taking his leave.

Tomorrow will be interesting, that much is for sure. 

\------


End file.
